


Stop A Bullet

by CatchMeInADream



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, F/F, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Triggers, proceed with awareness, warnings for chapter 18 and on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 86,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5127227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatchMeInADream/pseuds/CatchMeInADream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eighteen months ago, the Evil Regals' music was ripe for a nationwide explosion. When they disappeared without a trace, they became the biggest mystery in Storybrooke, Maine. Emma Swan and the Lost Girls just want people to notice them. But when the Regals make a sudden reemergence, it's a fight for recognition, and the Regals aren't interested in taking prisoners.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So, backstory: this is my project from last year's NaNoWriMo. And partially this year's, too. And even though I'm not quite finished yet, I feel it's time to get this thing up and read. What I'm saying is, I'll have regular, once a week updates for about 15 chapters, and then after that, it might get sporadic. But I am committed to finishing this, even if I get sidetracked on occasion.
> 
> Additionally, keep an eye on the tags and the rating as I'll likely be changing both as the story progresses.

_Lest We Forget_  
_Astrid Nova_

_The house lights snap off, plunging the room into darkness. You can’t see your hand in front of your face, and bodies press in close as everyone leans forward toward the stage in anticipation. The feeling in the air is heavy, feet shuffling, shifting as the crowd waits. A smattering of cheers start, early and without payoff. The stage remains black._

_It doesn’t take long for the crowd to get restless. Cheers start up randomly, turning to jeers and loud chants of “Regals! Regals! Regals!” but still the band refuses to make an appearance. The occasional flash of red or green strobe light gives us glimpses of the stage. Malady’s drum kit flashes in the back of the stage. A row of string instruments in stands line the space in front of it; guitar and bass, as well as the more interesting selection of violin and cello._

_Finally, a low, steady beat. Drums vibrating the club like a heartbeat. The crowd responds automatically, swaying forward with the upbeat and reeling back on the downbeat._

_A high, vibrating wail joins the drums, Gold on his violin singing out a haunting melody. The lights stay low, keeping the musicians in darkness, forcing your attention solely on the sounds. The tune starts slow, mesmerizing, joined smoothly by a new sound, a guitar that sneaks up on you, winding through the existing rhythms. It’s a different sound, it should clash with the violin, but somehow it doesn’t._

_The spell is being woven, the audience ensnared, too entranced now to even cheer. Like snake charmers, the Evil Regals capture their audience and move them, swaying forward and back, pulsing with the beat Malady drums out. It grows stronger, picking up speed, while on the cello Zelena matches it with her nimble finger work, even as the violin insists on its slow and steady moan. The audience jerks and sways, a collective now, and still waiting._

_At last the lights begin to raise, slowly, and now the crowd goes wild, voices raising in adoration. Finally we get to see her, lead singer Regina Mills, affectionately and accurately called the Queen by her fans, surveying her subjects, and accepting our screams as the tribute she is rightfully owed._

_What follows is the most vibrant and intense Evil Regals set of their career. From the moment the Queen opens her mouth to croon Sleeping Curse, to the last dying violin wail, the crowd is under the thrall this band casts. They don’t wait for us to catch up, they demand our attention and our loyalty and they command us to keep up. The Queen owns the stage and all eyes are riveted to her, to the strange and alluring combination of sultry innocence and untamed wildness that has always been her signature. We leave that night knowing, without knowing how or why, that what we have witnessed is something truly special._

_And we have. We won’t realize it till much later, of course. It’ll sneak up on us, like Zelena’s cello, and choke us with knowledge we wish weren’t true. But it is, and months later we are forced to admit it: what we saw that night was the final performance of the Evil Regals._

_A year and a half later, and the frenzy regarding the disappearance of the groundbreaking band has died down some, but not gone away. No longer frantic, the fans wonder in resignation: where are the Regals? What has happened to our Queen?_

_No explanation has ever been given for the band’s sudden disappearance. And while other members of the band have been spotted in brief, unofficial, and rare outings, no one has seen or heard from Regina Mills, the Queen herself, since that performance._

_The last Regal sighting occurred three months ago. The band’s bassist slash cellist, Mills’ real life sister Zelena Mills, was spotted paying for a lunch shared with the band’s drummer, Mallory ‘Malady’ Drache. And no, we aren’t going to tell you what they ate or whether or not we think they’re dieting. This is not that kind of blog._

_Attempts at contacting the band and its representative have all failed. Phone calls go ignored, messages remain unanswered. It is truly as though they have simply ceased to exist._

_Of course, speculation within the band’s loyal fan base continues unabated. Theories run from the plausible (a nasty falling out resulting in the disbandment of the group), to the completely insane (both alien abduction and ritual sacrifice have been mentioned more than once), to the utterly heartbreaking (some fans imagine Regina Mills quietly dead of overdose, suicide, homicide, etc.). But not one rumor has ever been confirmed or denied, and deeper investigation reveals nothing._

_The truth is, no one knows what happened. Eighteen months after that incredible, career defining performance, we are left with the same questions as ever: where have the Evil Regals gone? What is the reason for their sudden disappearance?_

_What happened to Regina Mills?_

_All we can do is guess, and hope. For answers, for a reunion, for our Queen to reclaim her crown once more. Until that moment, we’ll wait, hopefully, anxiously, loyally._

_Long live the Queen._

* * *

 

“Hey! Swan! Heads up, chica! We’re on in twenty!”

Emma looked up from the tablet. Ruby had her head poked around the door, palm banging lightly on the jamb by her head. Her face was a mask of impatience and Emma knew that her disappearing act would get her a scolding later. But even through her annoyance, Ruby grinned when she saw Emma looking up at her. “Can’t do much without our main attraction.”

Emma made a face right back at her, and tossed the tablet, and the melodramatic article she’d been skimming, onto the table where her feet were propped. She clicked the device to sleep, not bothering to click out of the article, still lit up on a picture of the band that Emma hadn’t bothered to look at.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she muttered. Ruby stuck her tongue out and Emma flipped her off as she stood. She stretched her long body out, arching up onto her toes till she felt her spine pop. She dropped back down onto her heels and rocked on them a bit.

“Quit stalling, you freak,” Ruby growled playfully, grabbing Emma’s wrist to pull her out of the dressing room. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Emma laughed and followed her best friend toward the stage.

“Oh good, you found her.” Neither Emma nor Ruby heard the brunette that had just slipped between them approach. Ruby yelped and jumped and pressed one hand over her heart dramatically.

“Christ, Belle, you have to stop doing that!” the guitarist complained. “You’re going to give me a heart attack!”

“You’re just mad that I can sneak up on you when no one else can,” Belle dismissed, uninterested. Belle was the bass player in Emma’s band, and perhaps a little bit of a mother hen. She leveled her index finger at Emma in warning. “You need to stop hiding before shows. You scared the hell out of us!”

Emma scowled. “Okay, I wasn’t _hiding._ It’s not like I was stuffed in a cabinet or something. I was in the damn green room!”

Belle only smirked. A moment later, a tiny blonde came sprinting down the corridor at them. She had a thunderous scowl on her face, and she was aiming right at Emma. Emma had only a half a second to brace herself before her drummer slammed into her chest with open palms.

“Ow!” Emma grabbed hold of the blonde’s wrists before she could smack her again. “Calm down!”

“You calm down!” Tina yelled in her face. “What’s your problem, huh, Swan? You think we don’t got better things to do than hunt for you before every show?”

Ruby chuckled. “We already scolded her, Tink, you can calm down.”

“Don’t call me that!” Tina snapped, and everyone snickered.

“You people are ridiculous,” Emma muttered. “None of you would have to be this pissy if you just looked in the obvious places _first.”_

Tina curled her fingers into Emma’s shirt, and for just a second Emma thought maybe she was about to get bitten. But then Tina’s hands lost their aggression and she smiled brightly, all the rage gone completely from her features. She patted Emma’s shoulders. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

The rest of them just shook their heads at the sudden change in moods, well used to it by now. Belle squeezed her wrist as she followed Tina out onto the stage.

“You ready for this?” Ruby nudged Emma with her shoulder.

Emma looked out to where, in just a few moments, she’d be performing. Her stomach flipped, with nerves and excitement. She flashed a grin at Ruby.

“Let’s do this, Lost Girls.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can figure out why I changed Cruella's name the way I did, you get cookies. You know...fake...internet...cookies. Yum?

Emma groaned as her phone’s alarm blared in her ear. For a moment her stomach roiled and pitched. She swallowed against it, desperately hoping that she wasn’t about to throw up in her sheets. Her head was thumping, too, keeping beat with her unsettled stomach.

“Oh god, if you’re going to puke, _please_ get up first,” Emma’s bedmate groaned. “And turn the damn alarm off!”

Blindly Emma reached for her phone and swiped her fingers over it until it stopped screaming at her. Then she heaved herself over to her side, causing the woman sharing the bed with her to moan piteously. Emma cautiously cracked open one crusty eye. When the light didn’t make her head any worse, she blinked blearily at Ruby.

“I made bad choices last night,” she muttered.

“Yes,” Ruby agreed, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter. “Yes, you did.” Ruby groaned again, throwing an arm over her eyes. “I made worse ones though. I think I’m dying.”

“You look dead,” Emma agreed. She pulled a pillow over her head.

“You gonna puke?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” Emma admitted. But then, through the open door of her bedroom, the smell of food floated through to Emma’s nose. Someone was in the kitchen cooking breakfast. She was rolling out of bed before her brain registered she’d moved, crying as she did, “Oh god, yes I have!”

She made it to the bathroom, thankfully, and spent long moments hunched over the toilet, cursing herself and Ruby and the bartenders and whatever asshole it was that had even invented alcohol in the first place. Finally, after many long moments and the vague realization that Ruby had come in to hold her hair for her, Emma’s stomach settled, and she was able to stand to brush her teeth. Ruby sat on the lid of the toilet and watched her. She still looked queasy, and she held her stomach protectively with both arms, but that was the extent of it. Emma glared at her over a mouthful of Crest.

“Belle is making French toast,” Ruby grinned. Emma made a little sound of distaste, but honestly, now that she’d emptied her stomach of the roughly thirty six gallons of alcohol it felt like she’d consumed last night, she was mildly interested in filling it again with something more substantial. She spat into the sink.

“And let me guess,” she muttered, cupping her hand under the faucet to scoop water to her mouth. “Tink is passed out on my couch.”

“Actually she’s helping.” Ruby shook her head. “For someone so tiny, she has a killer tolerance. She drank more than the rest of us combined.”

“Not possible, as I’m pretty sure I drank just about, oh, _all_ the booze.”

“Drama queen.” Ruby grabbed her wrist and hauled her out of the bathroom. “Come on. I want breakfast!”

“I have to go to work,” Emma muttered half heartedly as she let herself be dragged away.

Ruby just laughed at her. In the kitchen, they found that the table had already been set with the mismatched dishes from Emma’s cabinets. Coffee was waiting for them both, and Emma knew which was hers immediately because Belle had flavored Ruby’s with the half and half that Emma kept in her fridge just for her. She snatched her cup and took a sip, groaning blissfully at the flavor.

“Good morning to you too,” Belle laughed at her, putting a stack of finished toast on a plate down on the table. A moment later Tina came over with the syrup, warmed the way Emma liked it, the plastic bottle slowly deflating as it cooled.

“Sit,” the tiny blonde ordered them both, pointing. “Eat. Don’t puke.”

“Emma already did,” Ruby tattled, even as she sat down and pulled the toast towards her plate. She stabbed through four slices and slid them over, then swatted Emma’s hand away from the syrup so she could drown her food in it.

“You’re disgusting,” Emma muttered sullenly. “And no one likes a snitch. How are you not getting sick?”

Ruby shrugged, her mouth full of food. Then she grinned, squishing chewed up bread through her teeth as she did and making Emma gag as she repeated, “Disgusting.”

“Quit being a brat, Rubes,” Belle said sternly, taking her place at the table. Tina joined them a moment later, staring intently at her phone while she sat. They all watched the drummer scroll with her thumb as she absentmindedly served herself breakfast.

“Anything interesting?” Emma finally asked after a few minutes of silent chewing. The food had helped considerably, and now she felt almost normal again. The way Tina’s phone was angled, she could just make out the black and red color scheme on the screen, so she knew exactly what website her friend had pulled up.

Tina blinked up at her and shrugged a little. “About the same.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. She screwed up her face in a haughty moue, and affected a high pitched mockery to intone, “As usual, the Lost Girls worked the stage with all the enthusiasm of a pack of over caffeinated six year olds at a McDonald’s PlayPlace.”

“Unfortunately,” Belle picked up the game quickly. “Not even their over the top stage antics and wildly flailing limbs can disguise their complete lack of talent.”

Emma snickered. “Lead singer Emma Swan’s voice can only be compared to that of her namesake: loud and surprisingly unpleasant. Fortunately, she’s consistently drowned out by her band. Unfortunately, they seem to never have had a minute of musical training in their lives. Collectively they know perhaps three guitar chords total, the drummer has all the finesse of a gorilla with a pair of sticks, and we’re not even sure the bass is plugged in.”

They all looked at each other for a moment, and then dissolved into giggles.

“It’s bad,” Tina agreed through her laughter. “But it isn’t _that_ bad!”

“Astrid Nova strikes again!” Ruby cried, thrusting her fork into the air. A piece of French toast slid sluggishly down it, the syrup dripping onto her red manicured thumbnail.

Belle grabbed Tina’s phone and scanned the review herself. “You know, I think Tina’s right. It might even be nicer than the last one. She only called Emma a klutz twice this time. And she said Ruby might actually be practicing now!”

“Aww, she likes us! She really really likes us!” Emma stabbed her breakfast and shoved her mouth full, chewing with a vengeance.

“Whatever,” Ruby waved her hand dismissively. “I actually think some of the crowd there last night was there to see _us_ this time so that bitch can say what she wants.”

“Water off a duck’s back,” Belle agreed with a small smile.

“And on that cliche,” Emma said airily. “I’ll be heading to work now. Thanks for breakfast, Belle. Don’t trash my apartment, Ruby.”

“That was _once!”_

“She didn’t even put on different clothes,” Tina muttered, as Emma grabbed her favorite leather jacket.

Emma looked down at herself; her clothes from the night before were rumpled but still mostly presentable. And she didn’t smell too bad. She shrugged the jacket on.

“Quit talking about me!” she bellowed as she slammed the door shut behind her. A moment later she heard a thump against it; Emma laughed all the way down the stairs.

* * *

 

“You’re late, Swan!”

At first the words didn’t quite register. Emma was too busy trying to remove her jacket, unlock her locker, and sling her name tag around her neck all at the same time to really pay attention. She vaguely registered her boss standing at the edge of her vision, but ignored him in favor of not dropping all of her things. Abruptly, though, the words sank in, and Emma turned to face him with her lock dangling off her finger and the lanyard of her name tag hanging off one ear. He regarded her with a smug smirk, his arms crossed over his barrel of a chest.

“By like five minutes!” Emma protested. “I couldn’t find my keys! I had to walk!”

“Still late,” he insisted.

“Leroy!” She couldn’t help the whine in her voice. Her favorite part of working in Leroy’s store, Sit and Spin Records, was that when she clocked in on time, he let her have full control of the sound system for the day. As long as what she played wasn’t too vulgar, he didn’t care what she put on. And it was a good way to sell some of the less popular things from his inventory, since Emma’s tastes were pretty eclectic. But if she was late, he picked the music, and the only thing he ever played was the Bandit. As far as radio stations went, Emma had to admit that it wasn’t a bad one. They played a good mix of music, and they supported the hell out of local bands by playing their music on the late night shows. Every band in town knew that local celebrities Heartless had gotten their start in part because the Bandit played so much of them that they were still one of the station’s most requested bands. And even now that they were rising stars, Heartless still paid homage to the radio station that had taken a chance to sponsor a bunch of kids with very little experience and shaky vocals.

So really, with the exception of the station’s blogger Astrid Nova, Emma liked the Bandit. She really did. She just _hated_ the commercial breaks.

Sighing, Emma reattached the lock to her locker and spun the dial a few times. Leroy had her cash drawer waiting for her when she was finished, and she took it from him with a little scowl. He returned it with one of his own, and Emma huffed, because there was no point in getting into a who’s grumpier contest with Leroy because he always won, hands down. Taking her bad attitude out of the office and through the break room, Emma made her way back to the front of the store. As she was powering up the POS computer that passed as their cash register and waiting to unlock her drawer, Leroy turned the radio on and cranked up the volume just in time for Emma to hear a song end and the morning DJ’s voice come on.

“This day is _never_ going to end,” she muttered, sliding her cash drawer into the register and rolling her eyes as the advertisements started.

“Quitcher bitchin’ and get to work!” Leroy yelled from the back. Emma’s head whipped up, expecting to find him glowering at her from the door. Instead she could just barely see him at his own desk, in his office off the break room. She shook her head.

“What the hell, man? How does he even?” Raising her voice she called back, “We aren’t even open yet!”

“Then don’t make me fire you before your shift starts!”

Emma stuck her tongue out at the office door, and spun around to grab a stack of DVDs to take back to their shelves, grumbling as she went. Outside the store, there was a loud, sputtering roar, which cut off abruptly and gave way to equally loud cursing. A few moments later and the bell over the door jangled as August came inside, still cursing. Emma laughed at him.

“Your baby sounds sick,” she teased, looking past him to the parking lot, where August’s new motorcycle took up the space furthest from the store.

“Growing pains,” August insisted, unbuckling the bottom of his leather jacket. “Just growing pains. We’re still getting used to each other.”

“That and you don’t know how to handle a bike.” Emma stuck her tongue out at him.

August’s mouth was open to reply when Leroy appeared in the doorway, this time glaring at August as he growled, “You’re late!”

Their boss was gone again just as quickly, and August turned a bemused stare on Emma. “What’s his obsession with pointing out the obvious?”

Emma shrugged. “I don’t know, man. Go clock in and then straighten the magazines, would you?”

“Yes, _Mother_ ,” August rolled his eyes. He disappeared into the back, and Emma heard his locker opening and shutting again. A few moments later he reappeared and jerked his chin towards the stereo. The music was back on, finally. “You were late too, huh? Party too hard after last night’s show?”

“Belle made breakfast,” Emma shrugged.

August flipped the sign from Closed to Open on his way to the magazine stands, waving his hand as he did. “Say no more. I get it. Shit, though, you couldn’t have taken it for the road? I hate the radio.”

She threw a copy of Revolver she’d found among the DVDs at him.

Morning shifts at the store were usually pretty boring, and this one was no exception. When Emma had hired on at the record store, she’d only applied for it because she’d seen Empire Records approximately eight billion times, and she had this vague sort of hope that working in a real record store would be a bit like that, just without the putzy pop singers. Real life, she’d found out, was a lot different than that. Leroy wasn’t a bad boss, but he certainly was no Joe. There were no drums in the office, and he’d probably kill them if they ever tried gluing quarters to the floor. Every so often, he would come out and grump at them for a minute or two, or give them new tasks to do. Mostly he stayed in his office, though, under the guise of doing paperwork, though Emma suspected that he was mostly surfing the internet. And even though this town was super musically inclined, that didn’t change the fact that CDs were on their way out. Customers were few and far between during the day. She could usually count on a few music snobs during the day, but they never wanted her help, and maybe a few comic nerds to come in and check out their novelty items.

Actually, the best part of the day so far had been the two middle schoolers skipping school. They hadn’t bought anything, but they spent about an hour scouring the store for the most vulgar album covers they could find, each trying to outdo the other. Knowing Leroy would be watching the kids, since he assumed basically everyone that came in was a shoplifter, but especially anyone that still needed to ride the bus to school, August and Emma stuck close to them, and nudged them in the direction of their favorite album art. Emma considered herself the winner when even August made a face of disgust after she’d directed one of the kids toward Dick Sandwich. The game was over after that, and the kids were gone, leaving Emma and August to themselves again, with just over an hour until their noon lunch break.

“I am so bored.” Emma peeked up through her hair from where she had draped herself over the counter to see if August was watching her. He wasn’t, so she dropped her head again and tried to make her hair touch the floor.

Feet appeared under her head, and she looked up again, her eyes crossing a little trying to focus on August this close to her. She grinned at him. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He sat with his back against the counter so they were eye to eye. “You know Leroy’s gonna come out and yell at you soon, right?”

“Whatever,” Emma waved a hand. “Did you make it out to the Monkey last night?”

“Sorry, Em. I was working. Neal said you guys put on a pretty good show though.”

“Astrid Nova didn’t slam us nearly as bad as she normally does.”

“Ah, who cares?” August stretched up and poked her in the small of the back. “You know she’s only a critic because she doesn’t actually have any talent, right? Don’t listen to her.”

“Mostly we don’t,” Emma admitted. She groaned as she heaved herself off the counter. “What about the Rogers? Anything lined up?”

The sound August made as he stood could only be described as long suffering. “Killian’s being a drama queen so…” He shrugged. “We’re letting Neal handle it for now. Worst comes to worst, we’ll just send you in to bash him over the head again.”

“That was _one time_ ,” Emma blushed. And she’d only done it because Killian had been drunk and belligerent and his ass grab had been a little more personal than just her ass. “What’s his problem?”

“Same old shit. He punked out on a show last week because War Council was there too and he got into it with Ursula, and you know how _that_ goes.”

“Ugh, yeah, Mena jumps right in and starts biting ears,” Emma finished with a roll of her eyes. Seriously, War Council was just the Storybrooke alternative music scene’s answer to mean girls. And as far as Emma was concerned, Philomena De Ville was _actually_ insane. She worked in the record store too, and shifts with her were the worst. The most common phrase in Philomena’s vocabulary, after a condescending drawl of the word darling, was “fight me.” Emma tried to steer clear. “He has _got_ to stop sleeping with crazy chicks!”

“Are you talking about Ursula or Mena?” August asked wryly. Then, slyly, he added, “Or you?”

Emma punched him hard for that, then addressed the first part of the question. “Either, or, it doesn’t matter! He seriously—” Emma cut herself off suddenly, cocking her head.

August apparently didn’t notice. He was too busy laughing at her. “If I didn’t know better, Ems, I would say you’re jealous. I’m sure if you asked very nicely, he’d—”

Emma held up a finger. “No, seriously, stop talking!” August only smirked, and Emma waved her finger and pointed it at the stereo. “Shut up and listen for a second!”

August fell silent and they both listened close. The DJ was just closing out a block of music and preparing for a commercial break.

_“Alright guys, that’s about it for me. Up next we’ve got my girl Miss Ginger with the Liquid Lunch Hour. But first, it’s that time again, rockers! That’s right, summer’s just around the corner and with it comes everyone’s favorite project. Every summer we put together a list of 25 songs that we here at the Bandit would love to hear our local talent cover. This year’s list is ready to go, and everyone’s favorite blogger Astrid Nova will be unveiling it for viewing tonight just in time for tonight’s Block of Rock, cover edition! So head on over to our website and check it out!”_

August whooped, while Emma just thumped her head against the counter a couple of times. Great, now she had something fun to anticipate. This was going to make the day drag on even longer, she just knew that it was.

Leroy hung his head out of the office. “Get back to work!”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the covers list is revealed, and we get to meet Emma's roommate!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone familiar with the AV Club's covers project will also be familiar with how this is going to work.

Tina was bouncing around the apartment when Emma got back at five that afternoon. She was bopping around the living room to some Top 40 radio station. Belle was reclined on the couch, somehow completely immersed in the book she was reading despite Tina’s…dancing? Was that dancing? Or just really enthusiastic flailing?

“Did either of you actually leave today?” Emma asked as she dropped her jacket right on top of Belle’s face.

“Emma!” Tina threw her arms out and waved while spinning in little circles.

“How was work?” Belle asked once she untangled herself from the leather.

“Super boring, and you didn’t answer my question.”

“Belle went to pick up her work schedule, and I went with her,” Tina answered, dropping into the armchair. All of her manic energy was gone in an instant. “But then we were trapped in the bookstore for hours.” Tina and Emma both rolled their eyes at Belle, who had her nose stuck back in her book. “Then we got coffee before we came back here.”

“I think Ruby went back to sleep in your room after we left,” Belle added without looking up. “Mary Margaret is here now, and I’m pretty sure they’re in her room.”

Emma brightened. “Cool. You guys gonna hang out?”

Tina rolled her eyes. “Um, duh?”

“What our bratty friend means is, we heard the announcement on the Bandit and assumed we’d have a band meeting so we can all look at the list together,” Belle explained, tossing a throw pillow at Tina’s face.

“Cool,” Emma said again. “I was going to order Chinese, but if Mary Margaret is here…” She left the sentence hanging.

“Oh, I see. If Mary Margaret is here, you’ll just let Mary Margaret do the cooking for you, because that’s really what our friendship is about, isn’t it?”

Emma turned to see her roommate coming out of her bedroom with Ruby right on her heels. The petite brunette had her arms planted on her hips, and she was trying to glare sternly at Emma. The grin fighting its way onto her lips gave her away though. Emma smiled broadly.

“Yeah, exactly. I only moved in with you because your cooking is so good. I keep telling David I’ll fight him for you, but I think he’s too much of a wuss to fight a girl.”

“You sure have an odd way of pronouncing chivalrous.” Mary Margaret tilted her head and widened her eyes in exaggerated innocence.

“Yeah, that one always gave me trouble in school.”

Mary Margaret laughed, and came over to give Emma a hug. “Hi, Emma.”

“I didn’t expect to see you till this weekend,” Emma slung an arm around Mary Margaret’s neck.

“Well, I heard about the list, so I thought I’d come hang out with you guys while you looked at it.”

“That and David’s taking the night shift for a while,” Ruby added with a little shove of Mary Margaret’s shoulder.

Mary Margaret pushed back, blushing. “Hush, you!”

“You know I was kidding about the cooking thing, right?” Emma winced a little.

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You were not, so don’t even pretend. Anyway, I brought groceries with me. So I’ll do the cooking, and you’ll like it, is that clear?”

Emma snapped off a cheeky salute. “Ma’am, yes ma’am!”

Then Mary Margaret turned to Ruby. “Now, I love you, honey, but I’m kicking you out. I need you to take Tina and go pick up some wine for dinner, please.”

“Ooooh, fancy,” Ruby teased. “I’ll just go collect our little ball of psychotic energy then, shall I?”

She disappeared, and a moment later the music shut off. The door slammed shut, and even through it, Emma could hear them thundering down the stairs.

“That’s much better,” Mary Margaret murmured. “The music was starting to get to me.” Then she turned to Emma and looked at her critically. As always, Emma fidgeted under the scrutiny. She didn’t know exactly what it was like to have a mother but she imagined sometimes that Mary Margaret gave her a pretty good idea. “So do you live off of nothing but ramen and Taco Bell when I’m not here?”

Emma blushed, because, with the exception of the waste from Belle’s French toast breakfast, that was all that was in the garbage can in the kitchen.

“I’ve just been busy,” she defended weakly. “It’s not that I can’t cook, I just don’t like to. Also, we’ve been playing a lot so I’m really just here to sleep, mostly. And why am I even explaining myself to you?”

Mary Margaret chuckled. “I know, Emma, I just worry. That’s all.” She walked to the cabinets and began pulling down dishes. “We’re having pasta and you’re helping. Boil the water, please.”

Emma moved seamlessly around Mary Margaret to grab a pot and fill it with water. They chatted aimlessly as they worked; Emma told her a little of what the band had been doing, and Mary Margaret regaled her with stories from her first grade classroom. It was nice having Mary Margaret around. She really hadn’t seen enough of her friend lately.

“How are things with David?” Emma asked during a lull in the conversation, and almost couldn’t resist rolling her eyes when Mary Margaret lit up.

“He’s perfect, Emma.” The look on Mary Margaret’s face as she gushed was disgustingly sweet. Emma could practically feel her teeth rotting just from standing so close. She couldn’t help the smile that grew on her her face listening to her friend speak. “I have never been this happy. I’m sure he’s the one.”

Emma couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing. “Mary Margaret, you came home from your first date with him saying you were going to marry him! Of course he’s the one! So when are you two going to make it official and actually get married already?”

“That eager to get me out of here, are you?”

Emma grabbed her friend by the shoulders and shook her playfully. “Mary Margaret. You are the best roommate and friend ever, and believe me, I am more than happy to have you paying half the rent. But the truth is, you’re barely here anymore, and it’s kind of silly for you to be paying rent here when you essentially live with David. So pack up your shit and get out so I can find a new roommate okay?”

“You are the worst, Emma Swan, the absolute worse.” Mary Margaret sniffed. Then she added primly, “Besides. I’m working on it.”

Emma exploded into laughter again.

* * *

Dinner was a loud, almost raucous affair. Between Ruby and Tina, there was never a quiet moment, and more than once Emma wasn’t sure they weren’t going to break into a food fight. She herself wasn’t so innocent, egging them on whenever she got the chance, much to Mary Margaret and Belle’s chagrin.

It was nice. They hadn’t all been together like this in a while, just them with no practice, no gigs to play, no jobs to rush off to. They ate off plastic plates in the living room, watching some stupid rom-com Emma would never remember later. Belle kept Emma’s laptop on the coffee table, a browser window of the Bandit’s blog pulled up, and every so often she’d lean towards it and refresh it.

They were all the way through one of the bottles of wine Tina and Ruby had brought back, and half way through the second, when Belle suddenly choked on her spaghetti and waved at them through her spluttering. She hung her head over her plate as she swallowed as quickly as she could.

“It’s up!” she cried when her mouth was clear, motioning them over.

Plates were discarded haphazardly, though wine glasses were held onto as they crowded around the coffee table to hang over Belle’s shoulder. Tina had to climb up onto the sofa so she could peer between Ruby and Belle’s heads. Only Mary Margaret stayed in her seat, nibbling on the garlic bread left on her plate.

“Well?” she prompted after a few moments of silence. “Someone read it to me!”

“Oh, oh, pick me! Pick me!” Tina pushed herself between Ruby and Belle, and started, _“In the grand tradition of Storybrooke’s best rock station—”_

“Oh god, Tink,” Emma groaned, pulling her back by the ponytail. “You don’t have to read the _whole_ thing.”

“Well ex-cuse me but I thought you might find this interesting!” Tina pulled her hair out of Emma’s hand. “Listen: _For those of you new to the game—here’s looking at you, Emma Swan!—the rules are simple.”_

Emma rolled her eyes. “What did I ever do to this bitch that she’s gotta call me out every single time?”

“She’s just jealous,” Mary Margaret told her soothingly.

“That’s what August said,” Emma sulked.

“Um, shut up,” Ruby interrupted. She took over reading, _“The staff here at the Bandit have put together a list of twenty-five songs we would like to hear you cover. Rules for picking are easy: starting this Saturday, you send me an email here at Astrid_Nova@banditradio.com, and we’ll let you know when you can come to our studio to record. The catch?”_

 _“As soon as a song is covered, it gets crossed off the list,”_ Belle finished. _“So the longer you wait, the less choice you’ll have. You can request as many songs as you want, but only one song at a time. So pick quickly and wisely, rockers.”_

“What’s on the list?” Emma demanded, trying to reach over Belle to the touchpad of the computer.

Belle slapped her hand away and clicked to open the list herself. They took turns reading it aloud for Mary Margaret’s benefit.

_1\. Super Trooper — ABBA_   
_2\. Genie In A Bottle — Christina Aguilera_   
_3\. Criminal — Fiona Apple_   
_4\. Suffragette City — David Bowie_   
_5\. Dangerous Type — the Cars_   
_6\. Should I Stay or Should I Go — the Clash_   
_7\. Poison Ivy — the Coasters_   
_8\. Chain of Fools — Aretha Franklin_   
_9\. Used To Love Her — Guns’N’Roses_   
_10\. Rid of Me — PJ Harvey_   
_11\. Violet — Hole_   
_12\. I Love It — Icona Pop_   
_13\. Wicked Game — Chris Isaak_   
_14\. Kick Out The Jams — MC5_   
_15\. The Nobodies — Marilyn Manson_   
_16\. If You Want To Get To Heaven — Ozark Mountain Daredevils_   
_17\. Where Is My Mind? — the Pixies_   
_18\. Talk Dirty To Me — Poison_   
_19\. Cherry Bomb — the Runaways_   
_20\. Seether — Veruca Salt_   
_21.. Duality — Slipknot_   
_22\. I’ll Hate You Better — Suicidal Tendencies_   
_23\. Sober — Tool_   
_24\. No One Needs to Know — Shania Twain_

A collective “ooooohhhhhh” rose up when they reached the last song on the list. Mary Margaret leaned forward. “What? What is it? Something more ridiculous than Shania Twain?”

Emma snickered. “More ridiculous? No. Someone on the staff is sucking up though, I think.”

“Well, tell me what it is!”

Ruby cast a sly glance over at Mary Margaret, and said, “We can choose. Any Heartless song.”

“Oh.” Mary Margaret sat back and took a sip of her wine. Emma grinned at her underwhelmed response.

“Well,” Tina declared decisively. “ _I_ think it’s going to be fun.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet a rival band, the Lost Girls record the first cover, and Emma finds something interesting.

Saturday afternoon found Emma struggling with tangled power cords at a back booth in the Rabbit Hole. At the bar, Ruby was busy filling salt shakers and laughing at Emma’s annoyed grumbling.

“I could leave, you know,” Emma warned her irritably. “Seriously, I could get up and leave you with this Gordian knot of power cables. So unless you want to be the one explaining to War Council why the microphone and the bass are connected to each other by snakes, I would shut up and thank me for my generous, friend helping nature.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Stop being a drama queen, you volunteered for this. Also? If you take a sword to that, I will probably get fired, so please don’t.”

“I don’t even have a sword. Really big scissors might do it though…” She studied the tangled mess, tapping her chin thoughtfully, for just long enough that Ruby actually leaned forward, looking concerned. Emma grinned. “Just kidding, just kidding. But really, this is a huge mess and I need help.”

“Yeah, alright, hold on.” Ruby screwed the top back onto the last shaker of salt and dropped it onto a round serving tray with the others. Then she leapt off her stool and slithered into the booth across from Emma. She frowned. “This _is_ a mess. I bet they haven’t even been out since last year’s cover list came out.”

“You pull that one.” Emma pointed at the plug she wanted Ruby to work on. “Everyone gets pretty into this cover thing, huh?”

Ruby nodded, chuckling. “Oh god, yeah. Totally. It’s kind of a big deal. People here go a bit stupid for it, so not only does, like, everyone with the space want the participating bands to play that space, the crowds will get bigger. We might actually start making some money at shows now.”

“Hah! Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Ruby tried to push her end of a cord through the center of the knot, and only got it more stuck. She huffed a little. “Anyway, the best is the daytime airplay on the Bandit. That really helped launch Heartless’ career.”

“Killian said something about that,” Emma murmured, squinting as she followed the tangle of two separate cables with her fingers. “He made it sound like it’s kind of bullshit.”

“Yeah, well, the Jolly Rogers want to cover Seether too, and he knows that’s the song we requested first so…”

“Killian’s a douche,” Emma finished succinctly.

“Basically.”

They worked in silence after that, the knots slowly untangling under their fingers. Finally they had four separate cables coiled up on the tabletop between them. They each cast wary glances at the stage in the corner, where the band was just beginning to set up. Mena and Ursula were hunched over Mena’s drum kit, and Emma flinched a little when she saw their gazes periodically lift and lock on her and Ruby.

“Okay, but it couldn’t have just been because of the Bandit that Heartless got heard, right?” Emma burst out suddenly. “I mean, I’m not saying it didn’t help but they didn’t really get discovered through radio?”

“No, of course not,” Ruby agreed. “They hired a manager or something. Or maybe they just got savvy about where to play. They did little county tours and shit, played any venue that would take them. They scored some festivals and a small label record deal, and that was sort of the beginning. The Bandit just kind of kick started them here, got their name out there on a local level.” Ruby paused, thinking back. “Plus, then, their drummer died. Overdose, I think the story was. You know how people go nuts for that kind of thing. Launched their popularity way up. Once they had a replacement drummer, off they went.”

“That’s pretty shitty,” Emma murmured. She jerked her head. “Hey, don’t look now but Róisín is headed this way.”

Ruby plastered on a smile, muttering out of the corner of her mouth, “Oh good. This day just brightened.”

Emma chuckled, and curved her lips up into the same fake smile Ruby wore. Emma couldn’t point out the exact reason she didn’t like Róisín Ghorm, War Council’s lead singer. Maybe because Mena and Ursula were so unpleasant, it didn’t make sense to her that someone who wasn’t the same way would willingly spend that much time with the two of them. She’d technically never had anything but pleasant conversations with Róisín, and Róisín was good friends with Mary Margaret, so Emma had been around her more than just sharing space when they played the same clubs. Róisín had never been anything but pleasant, but it was the kind of pleasant that set Emma's teeth on edge.

It totally helped that Ruby didn't like her either.

"Hello, girls," Róisín greeted them when she got to their table. She cocked her hip against the back of Ruby's bench, and smiled at Emma.

Emma grit her teeth and smiled back. "We just finished up with the cables," she told the singer. "If you wanted to take them now."

"That's very kind of you. We appreciate it." Over on stage, Mena snickered and whispered into Ursula's ear. "Have you done anything about the Bandit's list yet? Assuming you're participating, of course."

"We sent in our request this morning," Ruby answered. She craned her neck around to look Róisín in the face. "What about you? There were a couple on the list that seemed just your style."

Róisín narrowed her eyes at Ruby briefly; the effect made her already severe face even more so, but Emma found she liked that better than the nothing Róisín's expression usually showed. Maybe that was the reason behind her dislike of the other woman. She only made facial expressions when she knew she was being watched.

The expression was gone quickly, though. She went back to smiling, and said, "Oh, we sent our request in too. We're just waiting for the go ahead. What ones do you girls want to do?"

"Oh, you know," Emma fluttered a hand vaguely. "We aren't picky. Any of them are good." She stood. "Well, Ruby has to get back to work and I promised I'd help her for a little longer. It was good talking to you, Róisín."

"Always a pleasure." The woman picked up the cables and, with another tooth flashing fake smile, made her way back to her band. They bent together in a huddle and whispered to one another. Every so often, Mena would poke her two-toned head up from their huddle and smirk at them.

“They aren't even subtle," Ruby rolled her eyes, going to pick up her tray of salt shakers. "They could at least try to pretend they aren't trying to steal our songs." She traded a full salt shaker for an empty pepper one. "I swear, they've just been getting worse and worse since the Evil Regals disappeared."

Emma groaned. "Could we not talk about them, either? I'm so done with bands that are more successful than mine."

Ruby snickered. "Agreed. Although, gotta say, it's not like the Regals are actually more successful than us. Considering they don’t exist anymore."

"Huh." Emma tilted her head. "I guess that's a good point. Still, though, I—"

She cut herself off when her phone buzzed as the email notification went off. Ruby smacked her in the shoulder. "Think that's Astrid?"

"Here's hoping." Emma swiped her finger across the home screen, pulling her email up. Sure enough, there was a new email from the Bandit's blogger waiting in her inbox. She clicked it and scanned it, her face falling. "Shit. Seether's been taken already." Quickly, she hit reply and typed in just four words before she hit send. To Ruby she explained, "Back up request. I figure she's probably still sitting at the computer."

"Good thinking," Ruby agreed. "The back up is Dangerous Type, yeah?"

"Yeah, and then— Wait, she's already replied. We got it!" Ruby pumped her fist while Emma kept reading. "We're supposed to go in next Saturday to record. That doesn't give us much time to practice."

Ruby shrugged. "Dude, whatever. We've all seen the Craft enough, we've got this."

Emma rolled her eyes at her friend's logic. "Whatever you say, you nerd. I'm gonna take off, okay? I'll let Belle and Tink know the plan."

“Later, Ems. We’ll get together and start practicing tomorrow, okay?”

Emma waved absently, already lost in planning their own arrangement.

* * *

 

After a week’s worth of practice sessions, Emma and the rest of the band felt pretty good about what they did with their Cars cover. They’d spent as much time as they could at their rented storage space where they practiced, perfecting the arrangement until they could play it in their sleep. By the time their scheduled recording time rolled around, they knew they were as prepared as they were going to get.

That didn’t stop Emma from feeling like she was going to throw up, though.

They’d never done anything this official before. Their recording sessions had been in the Jolly Rogers’ makeshift studio, which was just a fancy word for August’s garage. They burned CDs and made pretenses of selling them, even though they usually just ended up giving them away. Tina took the CDs to work with her and decorated them with permanent markers when she got bored. They’d dropped them through the drop box at every radio station they could pick up in Emma’s crappy old Bug, and the only one that had ever played them was the Bandit. So this was a little new, and a lot scary.

As soon as they walked into the station, though, they were swept up by a pretty blonde intern with a bright smile. “Hey guys! You must be the Lost Girls! I’m Intern Ashley, I’m an intern here at the Bandit.” The Lost Girls all exchanged uncertain glances, both because of the bubbly, giddy personality of the girl, as well as her strange redundancy. Maybe she was just over caffeinated, Emma thought. “I’ll be the one helping you out today. Can I get you anything before we get started? Coffee, water?”

Emma blinked and had to stop herself from rearing away from the eager young woman, and wanting desperately to steer her away from any kind of caffeine. She shook her head. “Uh, no. That’s okay. We kinda just…want to get this done with, you know?”

When Intern Ashley frowned, Belle stepped up and shifted her bass to her other hand so she could offer her a handshake. “What Emma means is that we’re very excited to be here and we would love to get started as soon as possible.”

Intern Ashley immediately brightened back up. “Oh, yeah! Of course! Follow me then.” She led them through a set of double doors, down a hallway. “You’ll have to excuse the recording studio. It’s not as big as the ones we use for our show, and we share it with another station here. It might be a bit cramped.”

“We practice in an actual storage unit,” Ruby told her. “We’ll be fine.”

“Good! That’s good!” Intern Ashley’s cheery disposition was making even Tina twitch; none of them were calm enough to be able to reciprocate the upbeat dialog. That didn’t seem to deter the girl, though. She continued as if she didn’t even notice their nervous silence as the band followed her. “We’ve set everything up for you already, so all you should need to do is plug in. We’ll do a short video interview first, and then you’ll start playing. We’ve got the whole afternoon to get it right, so don’t feel like you need to do it perfectly the first time. Then we’ve got some consent forms for you to sign, so we can put the video up on our YouTube channel. Simple enough, right?”

“Uh, sure,” Emma agreed absently. She was busy staring around the room Intern Ashley had just opened up for them. The studio was, indeed, a little cramped. There were drums set up in one corner already, and Tina pounced at them right away. Ruby and Belle went right to setting up their own instruments, which just left Emma to talk to the second intern who was waiting for them with a video camera that was, Emma noticed, already recording. This intern was much less perky than Intern Ashley; she had olive skin and black hair and when Emma introduced herself, her smile was warm and not psychotically cheerful. Emma felt herself relax a little. She did introduce herself as Intern Marian, which Emma thought was kind of weird, and she instructed Emma to just act natural and do what she would normally be doing, so Emma went over to the microphone stand and fiddled with it for a moment, setting it up the way she liked it. Intern Marian moved around them with her camera, making sure she got shots of them all as they set up.

Finally they were all ready, with Tina behind the station’s drums and Ruby and Belle with their instruments slung around their necks. Emma grasped her microphone stand with one hand while Intern Marian came to stand where she could video them all.

“This is the first time the Lost Girls have been in our recording studio,” Intern Marian said to the camera. “And you’re the first band to record for this year’s cover project. Are you nervous?”

“Only in the sense that I want to throw up my breakfast,” Emma muttered, not looking at the camera as she spoke, and trying hard not to let her surprise show at the information that they were the first band selected to record.

Intern Marian laughed. “You’re going to be playing Dangerous Type, by the Cars. Any reason you chose this song?”

This time Emma did look up, and glanced around the room. The rest of her band just grinned back, totally okay with her taking the lead on this. She shrugged when she turned back to Intern Marian. “Other than that we all love this song, not really. We’re pretty excited about the whole list, honestly. I don’t think we’d mind doing any of them.”

“Some of the songs on it are a far cry from your normal sound,” Intern Marian pointed out.

“What’s the point of doing covers if you’re just going to do them the same as the original?” Emma asked with a grin. “We’ve got our favorites, of course, but we’ll be happy with whatever songs we get.”

Intern Marian’s smile widened. Behind the glass, Intern Ashely tapped on it and gave them a thumb’s up. “Whenever you’re ready, Lost Girls.”

Intern Marian stepped closer to Ruby as the guitarist started them out. Tina joined her, and Emma ran a nervous hand through her hair and grabbed the mic. She swayed with the music as she waited for her cue, her band giving the song a harder edge to it than the original. As soon as they were playing, Emma’s nerves melted away. There was nothing here for her to be afraid of; she was in her element. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips close to the mic as she started to sing. Intern Marian faded away, and the knowledge that she was being recorded. All that existed was the music and her band mates, and they were in sync and feeling good. They knew this song backwards and forwards, and they played it like they’d written it.

When they were done, Intern Ashley jumped up from her seat in the recording booth, clapping wildly. Even Intern Marian clapped her camera gently against her free hand. Emma slid her headphones off her ears and let them dangle around her neck. “That was good?”

“Really good,” Intern Marian assured them. “We’ll go through it a couple more times just to be sure, but you guys sound great.”

Tink gave a little drum roll of victory, and they all laughed. At ease now, they went through the song several more times, letting Interns Marian and Ashley direct them as they felt it was needed. Some part of Emma realized that this was a big responsibility for the interns and they were just making sure they got everything perfect before they released the Lost Girls back into the wild. Recognizing that the two interns were probably just as nervous as she had been when they came in, Emma accommodated them as much as possible, until they all felt like they’d done everything they could. It was several hours later that they all felt like they’d done their best, and Intern Marian finally snapped her video camera closed.

“We’ll get the editing done today,” Intern Marian told her while Belle and Ruby packed up. “And the video will probably go up tonight. We just need your signatures to do that.”

“Yeah, sure,” Emma agreed. She stuffed her fingers in her pockets and rocked back and forth on her heels. Intern Ashley burst through the door squealing.

“You all sound amazing!” she gushed. “I’m so excited! This is going to be a great list, I can tell! I can’t wait for you to come back!”

Ruby laughed and nudged Emma. “Looks like we got a new fan!”

“Two,” Intern Marian corrected, more subdued than the blonde girl at her side. “We appreciate you being so flexible with your time.”

“It was fun,” Belle said. Her own smile was just as wide as Ashley’s.

“We can’t wait to go again!” Tink added, beginning to bounce herself.

The interns directed them back to the lobby, where they signed the consent forms waiting for them there, and then Interns Marian and Ashley waved them out the front doors into the parking lot. Emma blinked a little; at some point while they’d been recording, it had started to rain. They huddled under the awning for a little while, watching the rain come down. There were already huge puddles in the parking lot.

“I wish I didn’t have to do this,” Belle sighed finally. “But I need to go to work. Emma, would you mind taking my bass home with you?”

“Sure, no problem.” Emma took the instrument, and Belle made a sprint for her car. Ruby hooked her arm through Tina’s.

“Tink and I are going shopping,” she informed Emma. “Want to come?”

“Not even a little bit,” Emma shook her head. “I’ll take your guitar with me, then?”

Ruby shoved the instrument into Emma’s free hand and bussed her cheek playfully. “You’re the best, Emma! Love you!”

“Bye!” Tina cried, turning to wave behind her as Ruby made her run toward the bus stop. Emma shook her head as the two disappeared around the corner, squealing as the rain pelted them, and wondered at their seemingly endless amounts of energy. She herself felt exhausted now. All she wanted to do was go home and crash. Hefting both instruments in her hands, she made her way to the back of the parking lot, where she’d parked her Bug under some trees. She stuffed the two cases into her back seat, and started to get into the driver’s seat.

It was the brown leather cover that caught her eye first. She wasn’t really sure why, since it was just this tan, easy to miss color. Not something she normally would have even noticed. But there was gold font glittering on the cover, and that was what piqued her curiosity most. She crouched and pulled the book out from where a shrub was half sheltering it from the elements. The gold lettering spelled out the words Once Upon a Time, and Emma blinked, wondering what a book of fairy tales could possibly be doing abandoned in a radio station parking lot. Shrugging, she tossed it onto the floor by the passenger seat. She’d take it with her, and maybe there’d be a name or something in the front cover. Whoever the book belonged to, surely they would be grateful that Emma had saved it from the rain. She was going to flip through it as she waited for her fogged up windows to clear, but when she turned her key in the ignition, her car started, sputtered, and died again. The book was forgotten in the minutes that she spent turning the key again and again, while Emma alternately screamed curse words at her piece of shit vehicle and begged and soothed it pleadingly. By the time she got it started for good, patting the dash with a little smile like the damn thing was a dog, she’d forgotten all about looking through the book.

When she got home she remembered it only long enough to shove it under an arm before she ran her friends’ instruments inside. Mary Margaret was gone again when she got there, so Emma deposited the instruments on the living room floor and tossed the book onto the kitchen table before going to the AC and pleading with it to please, please just work for a little while longer. She felt like an idiot for talking with her appliances, but it was a habit she’d picked up since Mary Margaret started spending so much time at David’s.

The book lay ignored on the table for several hours while she fixed herself dinner and called Mary Margaret to tell her about the recording session. She washed and dried her dishes, and actually folded a basket of laundry, and then zoned out on the couch while she waded through a couple episodes of Supernatural on Netflix. Okay, half a season. Whatever, she’d earned it.

It was only after she dragged her ass off the couch and trudged into the kitchen to deposit her tea cup in the sink that the book caught her eye again. Curious once more, she went over and picked it up. It seemed only a little worse for the wear. The cover had dried and it didn’t seem like it had warped too badly. Maybe just a little bit in the corners, she thought as she ran her fingers over it.

It was a pretty book, she decided eventually. She was sure that whoever had lost it would be missing it, since it seemed like the kind of book that would have sentimental value. If she didn’t find a name in the cover, she’d head back to the radio station on her lunch break tomorrow and ask if anyone had come looking for it. In the meantime, though, she was going to take a peek inside. So she took the book into her bedroom and changed quickly into her pajamas. Once she was all snuggled into her covers, she propped the book on her knees and opened it to the first page.

To her surprise, it wasn’t a book at all. Instead of words she found a picture. A tiny, red faced, so new it was still slightly misshapen baby, lying on its stomach and fast asleep, was on the front page instead. The corners of the photo were held down by little star shaped brads, and the elegant script labeled the baby not with a name but simply as MY LITTLE PRINCE.

It made Emma frown. Not because there was no name, because Emma was pretty sure you didn’t have to label your _own_ baby with its name when you made a book like this. It made her frown because she thought there was something kind of weird about the nickname in general.

Still frowning, she flipped the page. More hospital pictures. A tired, disheveled, and radiantly beaming brunette lay in a hospital bed with the Little Prince wrapped in a blanket lying in her arms. She was pale and exhausted and there were huge dark circles under her eyes, but Emma didn’t think that made her any less stunning. The smile was gorgeous, and so was the look in her eyes as she looked at the baby. She was stroking two fingers down the sleeping infant’s cheek.

In the next picture, the brunette was still holding the baby, but this time daddy was in the picture too. He was sitting on the bed, and the baby had one tiny hand wrapped around one of his big fingers. Both parents were staring down at the baby in absolute wonder and devotion.

Starting to get a little bored now, Emma flipped through the next couple of pages. Mom, Dad, and Baby. Dad and Baby. Mom and Baby, times one million. A redhead, Mom, and Baby. A blonde, Mom, and Baby. Dad and another man, and Baby. All of them together, and Baby. There were dozens of pictures just from the hospital in the first few days of Baby’s life.

Bored, Emma shut the book and put it in the drawer of her nightstand. That wasn’t nearly as interesting as she had been hoping it would be, and it was already well past one in the morning, so wasting her time looking at someone else’s kid any longer seemed pretty pointless. She flipped her light off, and within moments was asleep, the book already almost completely forgotten.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to keep to a weekly updating schedule but not having internet where I live and not having a car that, you know, works, sort of gets in the way of that. Sorry.
> 
> Also, my girls have kind of foul mouths. That becomes very apparent in this chapter. Sorry if that kind of thing offends you.

If Emma thought their lives were going to change drastically after their recording session for the Bandit, she was sorely mistaken. She listened obsessively to the radio; they _all_ did. Emma let Leroy pick the music all week, until finally even August couldn’t stand it anymore and took control of the stereo. She kept the station’s website open in a tab on her phone and refreshed it twice an hour.

There was nothing. Their video never went up. The song was never played on the radio. It was like they hadn’t even recorded a song.

“This is bullshit,” Ruby exclaimed during their Wednesday night practice, setting her guitar into its stand and throwing herself onto the battered old armchair they’d shoved into the corner of their cramped practice space. Everyone stopped playing and stared at her glumly. Angrily, Ruby continued, “We are playing like _shit_ right now. We sound terrible!”

“We are having a hard time tonight,” Belle agreed quietly.

Tina slowly placed her sticks into her back pocket and sighed. “I just don’t get why they won’t play it. I thought we sounded really good.”

“Yeah, well, they’re assholes,” Emma muttered, kicking her microphone stand sullenly. “This is probably my fault. Astrid Nova hates me.”

“She doesn’t have anything to do with what gets played on the radio, she doesn’t _really_ hate you, and you also know that the Jolly Rogers recorded on Monday and they haven’t been played yet either,” Ruby snapped, crossing her arms. “So give the martyr complex a rest, Emma.”

“Fuck you, Ruby.” There was no bite to her words, only resignation. Emma tilted her head back and heaved a sigh. “You know what? We’re useless here. Let’s call it quits for tonight.”

“I hate this,” Tina pouted.

“Let’s go out,” Belle suggested suddenly, as she unplugged her bass. “Friday night, the Jolly Rogers and War Council are playing at the Pride Lands. Let’s go, okay?”

“That’s a good idea,” Tina agreed. “We could use some fun.”

Ruby nodded. “I’m in. I need to get laid.”

Her candid statement made them all laugh. Emma felt some of the tension she’d been carrying all week melt away as they giggled together. She found herself nodding too. “Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”

* * *

 

Friday came and they put on too much makeup and showed too much skin and went out in a pack. It started out forced, their collective bad mood still hanging over them as they started out the night with sushi for dinner. Then they had a couple of shots at a bar down the street before they headed over to the Pride Lands right in the middle of the Jolly Rogers’ set, and by then they were all feeling much better. Belle and Tina wandered off together, and Emma was amused to see them twenty or so minutes later pretending to lose at darts with a pair of dumb muscle.

“Those two are not as innocent as they look,” Ruby said in her ear, passing a beer over Emma’s shoulder. “How much money do you think they’re gonna hustle out of those idiots tonight?”

“Better question is, how long do you think it’ll take them to even realize they’re being hustled?” Emma took a pull from her beer, snickering.

“Hey, so listen to this.” Ruby leaned against the bar next to Emma, looking perturbed. “I go to get us our beers, right? And I’m flirting with the bartender. Pretty heavily, too. Like, he handed me the bottles and when I leaned over to take them I made _sure_ he could see right down my shirt.”

Emma shook her head. “One, you are shameless. Two, why are you telling me this? What makes you think I want to know about your attempted sexcapades?”

“Hardy har, you’re very funny. That’s not the interesting part. The interesting part is how the guy doesn’t even attempt to take a look. In fact, I’m not sure he looked me in the eye once while serving me.”

Emma shrugged. “So what? He might be gay.”

“Nope, this guy has definitely not been shy about looking down my shirt in the past,” Ruby denied. “Something is off tonight. People are being really weird.”

Emma tilted her head and looked around. Now that she was paying attention, it did seem like a lot of the staff was pretty distracted. And there were a few more bouncers around than usual.

“No one that works in this place will look at you!” Ruby had to shout over the music; on stage, Neal was ripping into a guitar solo like his life depended on it.

Yeah, okay, Emma thought, maybe there was something to that. She watched Ruby try and fail to catch the eye of one of the servers making his way back to the bar. Normally Ruby didn’t have any sort of trouble garnering the attention she wanted. In fact, usually her problem lay in the opposite direction. Emma sometimes joked, maybe a little awkwardly, that at some point the rest of the band were going to have to invest in baseball bats just to keep the space around Ruby clear of unwanted attention. So the fact that she wasn’t even being acknowledged right now was really strange.

Ruby gave up trying to flirt and settled on pouting. She turned to Emma. “We haven’t destroyed anything here before, have we?”

Emma scrunched her nose and thought back. They got a little rough sometimes during their shows, but she didn’t think they’d ever crossed any lines here, at least. She shook her head.

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“I’m gonna see if Tiny can get us in the back then. Come on!”

Ruby grabbed her hand and led her toward the biggest bouncer in the room. Tiny, who’s real name was Anton and who was sometimes affectionately, and maybe a little fearfully in some cases, known as Anton the Giant, was roughly the size and shape of a grizzly bear. But Ruby had always gotten along really well with the bouncers in the clubs they played, and he was no different. Emma couldn’t actually see Tiny at the moment but she had no doubt that Ruby know exactly where he was. She wasn’t sure if the girl had the nose of a bloodhound or what, but she had lo-jacking abilities that only seemed to get better as she drank.

On stage, Killian and Neal were screaming into the same microphone, both of them shredding their guitars at breakneck pace. Emma grinned and moved her hips to the music; Neal and Killian were both knuckleheads, but she did enjoy their music. Not that she would ever tell them that.

They found Tiny standing in the back, by the door that Emma knew led to the office, and a break room that doubled as a sort of green room for the musicians. He had his arms crossed in the normal, fuck with me and I will bust your head kind of way, but Emma could tell that something was up with him, too. His eyes were scanning the bar relentlessly, but while normally his eyes were trained on the crowd itself, this time they kept flickering back to the same places over and over again. Emma followed his gaze, found herself drawn to the bar, the stage, and the DJ’s booth. She saw nothing out of the ordinary though.

Ruby sidled right up to Tiny and pressed close to his side. She batted her eyelashes at him; Emma rolled her eyes. Tiny ignored her, as everyone else had been doing, but at least this time it was normal for him to do it. Tiny, they knew, had a wife and baby daughter waiting for him at home.

“Hey, Tiny,” Ruby drawled. “Listen, Emma and I were supposed to meet up with Killian and the guys after the show. We were kind of hoping you wouldn’t, you know, bounce us if we went back and waited for them now.”

Tiny flicked his eyes down to Ruby’s face briefly. Then they went back to scanning, and Emma turned to follow again. Nothing but jumping, thrashing metal fans.

Ruby pouted at him. “Aw, come on, Tiny! Please?” She stuck her lip out for good measure.

Tiny cracked a smile at her and nodded. “Sure, Ruby. Go on back.”

He stepped aside so they could slip through the door, and had stepped back in front of it before it had even shut behind them so that when they turned back to close it, all they saw were the backs of his enormously broad shoulders. As soon as the door was closed, some of the sound from the Jolly Rogers was muffled, and they could speak normally again.

“What are we actually doing back here anyway?” Emma asked as they made their way to the green room.

“You don’t recognize an encore when you hear one?” Ruby raised her eyebrows at her. “Look, I just want to poke around, okay? Figure out what has people all weird like.” She paused, then huffed, “I just want to know why I’m not getting laid tonight, okay?”

Emma laughed. “Alright, alright. Maybe we should actually meet up with the guys then. They might have heard something during set up.”

As they walked, they avoided other people for the most part. There weren’t a lot of people there, but the few that were, were running around with equipment and neither Lost Girl wanted to be the reason one of them crashed and burned. Their efforts were appreciated, and they received more than a few smiles of thanks. Still, though, even back here there was a weird atmosphere. People didn’t look at them for long, and some of them were carrying equipment with artwork she’d never seen on it. She nudged Ruby and pointed.

“I thought War Council played next? That doesn’t look like their stuff.”

Ruby squinted at it for a few moments. Then she heaved an exasperated sigh and pulled Emma along. “No, it’s them. They do that sometimes, try to pull off the Regal look. God knows why, they don’t sound anything like them.”

Emma rolled her eyes. Sure, imitation was the best form of flattery and all that, but couldn’t people in this town give it a rest? She hadn’t been in Storybrooke for more than a year, but in that year she’d heard more about the Evil Regals and their mysterious vanishing act than she’d wanted. At first it was kind of cool, the mystery of it all. Actually, she had to kind of respect it, because they weren’t just an incredible band anymore, they were goddamn legends. But frankly, Emma was getting tired of it. It seemed like every high school goth chick in town had a Hot Topic corset and a microphone, thinking they were gonna be the next Queen.

A door to her right slammed shut suddenly, jerking Emma out of her head. She had just enough time to see a flash of red hair before the door was tightly closed. She studied it for a bit, mildly curious, but ultimately just shrugged and continued walking with Ruby.

“I forget you were actually around for that,” she said casually as they reached the green room and took seats on the couch. Ruby examined her nails, picking at the chipped red polish on them.

“I wasn’t really, though,” she shrugged. “I mean, kind of, I guess. I was mostly just tending bar and dancing back then. Sometimes I’d do stuff with Mary Margaret, but you know what kind of music that girl likes, so I didn’t see the Regals perform more than a handful of times. I guess I was backstage with them once or twice. Then they relocated to Boston with Heartless and started touring so we didn’t see nearly as much of them, and by the time they came home, I was strictly audience only. That’s really it.”

“Were they really as good as everyone says?”

“Nope.” Ruby popped the p sound, and Emma felt a sharp sense of satisfaction well up in her chest. But Ruby burst her bubble by explaining, “They were better.”

“Really?”

Ruby nodded. “Oh yeah, they were ridiculous. I’ve never seen anyone work a crowd like they did. I think they were _actually_ witches.”

“And you met them? Backstage?”

“I wouldn’t say I met them, more that I existed near them a few times. Zelena bumped into me once and then complimented my shoes. I remember Gold waved his hands around a lot and Zelena and the Queen snapped at each other every three seconds. That’s about all the interaction I had from that encounter.”

“And War Council, what? Mimics them?”

“I guess? I think Róisín just likes to remind people that they’re gone. They started around the same time as the Regals and Heartless did, but everyone knew they weren’t making it big like the other two were. I think Róisín kind of thinks that the Queen was holding her down or something, but it’s really just that they weren’t anywhere near as aggressive about booking gigs. Since they’ve been gone—I am going to punch you in the fucking face if you start singing pop songs at me, Emma, I swear to god!—Róisín just likes to remind people that the Evil Regals are gone. And now you know everything that I know.”

Emma made a humming sound, crossing her arms as she processed what she’d just heard. This world was a lot more like a soap opera than Emma ever would have imagined before coming into it with the Lost Girls. She loved it, but it also sometimes made her want to slap people silly.

Ruby must have seen that on her face because she chuckled. “Yeah, you get used to it after a bit. We’re all one big dysfunctional, incestuous family here. Hey, you know who you should ask about the Regals?”

“Who?”

“Mary Margaret,” Ruby surprised her with the answer. She grinned at Emma’s look of surprise. “I know, right? I don’t understand it, but I guess she was sort of friends with the Queen, with Regina, way back in the day. But they had some big falling out and Regina hates her now. That’s what Mary Margaret says, anyway.”

“So she probably wouldn’t know what happened to them?”

Ruby was opening her mouth to answer when a loud male voice interrupted them. “Emma, luv! I knew you couldn’t stay away for long!”

Killian opened his arms and moved to pull Emma into a bear hug against his chest. Emma sidestepped at exactly the same moment that Ruby stepped in front of her, and the result was that Killian ended up with an armful of snarling Ruby. He quickly released her and stepped back with an unapologetic grin. Neal came up to them a little more quietly, scrubbing the back of his head with a hand as he half smiled, half grimaced at Emma. The exchange was no less awkward, though; how was it that she always managed to forget she got awkward around these two?

“Hey, Emma,” Neal murmured softly, not meeting her eyes for more than a second, just long enough for her to nod back.

Ruby rolled her eyes and mimicked an exaggeratedly low male voice. “Hey Ruby, how are you?” Her voice went back to normal and then pitched a little higher for effect. “I’m fine, Neal, thanks for acknowledging my fucking existence.” She rolled her eyes and punched Neal’s shoulder none too gently. “Thanks, douchebag.”

“Sorry, Rubes.” Neal grinned at her sheepishly. “Good to see you too.”

Two arms suddenly flung themselves around Neal and Killian’s necks as one of the other band members hung his head between them. They both winced and staggered forward, and Robin grinned at Emma and Ruby both. “This is a pleasant surprise. What brings you two by?”

August appeared next, his hands full of his own bass and Killian's guitar. The chipped paint of the Jolly Roger painted on it was more of a dingy grey now than white, but the instrument was clearly well cared for and loved. Emma wasn't sure why, then, August was carrying it around. He shot Emma and Ruby a quick smile, and slipped behind them into their dressing room.

"How about you ladies join us for a drink at the bar?" He asked as he set the instruments carefully down in their stands. "War Council is going on pretty soon.”

Ruby wrinkled her nose at the mention of the other band and cast her eyes sideways at Emma. She raised one eyebrow questioningly. Emma shrugged. "Sure, why not? We sort of left Tink and Belle out there anyway. We had a question we wanted to ask you."

"Fire away, luv," Killian winked at her, throwing an arm over her shoulders. Emma glared at him and ducked under the arm, only to twist right into Neal's chest. He put an arm up to steady her, which made her stiffen and cross her arms.

Next to her, Ruby growled low under her breath and glared. Neal withdrew her hand like it was on fire. They slowly started to make their way back toward the front of the bar, where the music was now coming from satellite radio rather than the stage. Ruby stood between Emma and the guys, for which she was more than a little grateful. As they walked, Emma explained, "Something really weird is going on with the staff. They're all acting pretty shady."

"No one will look us in the eye," Ruby further explained.

"You noticed that too?" August asked, sounding relieved.

"I thought it was just us!" Neal exclaimed. "We've been trying to figure out what the hell we did to everyone here that pissed them off so much!"

Killian scoffed. "Us? We're angels, we are. Those Lost Girls though... I heard they're a tough crowd. Always breaking shit."

"Oh, fuck off," Ruby rolled her eyes and reached out a long arm to shove Killian into the wall. As his shoulder collided with it, landing painfully on the corner of a door jamb, the door attached to it started to open up. It slammed closed just as quickly; around Killian's leather clad shoulder, Emma saw dark hair and red lips and that was about it.

"See?" she demanded, throwing an arm out toward the slammed door. "Shit like that has been going on all night!"

Ruby marched up to the door and slammed on it a couple of times. "Hey, assholes! Whatever we destroyed, we're sorry, okay?"

"Speak for yourself, luv," Killian muttered. He shoved the girl lightly, payback for the abuse she'd given him. She curled her lip at him.

"We have no idea what's happening," Robin cut in smoothly, gently steering the Jolly Rogers' singer away from Emma's guitar player. Ruby allowed the touch, and let him guide her back to her place by Emma's side. "We really did think we'd done something wrong. We've been trying to figure it out since we got here."

"Management has been dodgy too," August explained, as they reached the door back into the bar. Tiny was gone when they opened it but there was a little cord of rope in front of the door barricading people from going back into places they didn't need to be. Emma blinked at it; that wasn't something she'd ever seen them do here before. Generally they just let people get a little lost back there before guiding them back out front again. August seemed confused by it too as he unclipped it from the ring it hung on to allow them through. He eyed it as he continued his explanation. "We haven't had two words with Whale all night."

"Usually he's up our asses the moment he sees us," Killian admitted.

"Every time we try talking to him, he practically runs away," Neal finished.

Emma frowned. "You think the bar's in trouble?" she asked. "And maybe he doesn't want to say anything to us yet?"

"I hope not!" Ruby exclaimed in dismay. "I love this stupid bar! It's my favorite!" She paused, then added, “After the one I work at!”

"Because you keep sleeping with the bartenders," Emma teased her.

"The cutest ones all work here," Ruby agreed shamelessly.

"And yet, she won't even look twice at the rest of us," Killian intoned mournfully. Robin and August positioned themselves at the front of their little group, clearing a path to the bar, and Emma gave them exaggerated glances, then raised her eyebrows at Killian pointedly. He shrugged shamelessly, and asked, "What are you girls drinking tonight? First round's on us."

"First round is free for you," Emma rolled her eyes at him. Still, she didn’t protest when he handed her a beer a few minutes later. She sipped it, quiet, listening to Ruby snark at Killian. Emma tried to resign herself to not solving this mystery. She couldn’t pinpoint just why exactly it felt so urgent that they figure out what was going on here. But she just had a feeling that whatever it was the staff was hiding, it was going to affect her some how. All of them, really.

She actually kind of wanted to leave, if she were being honest. War Council was just starting to play, and Emma wasn’t sure anymore that she wanted to sit through more than a few minutes of their noise tonight. But Ruby seemed to be having a good time, as hard as that was for Emma to understand. She watched her friend and band mate spar with Killian, her brow furrowed. What on earth did Ruby see in this kind of interaction? Killian was rude and crude and while he could be charming, on occasion, those instances were few and far between, and he almost always immediately ruined it by saying something disgusting right after.

Maybe the charm had just finally worn off for her. She didn’t find Killian nearly as attractive anymore as she used to.

Her eyes scanned the bar, and she found Tina and Belle exactly where they’d been before Emma and Ruby had taken their trip to the back. Tina saw her and waved, jumping up and down, then pointed at the two guys they were with and rolled her eyes. Emma laughed, then jerked her thumb at Killian and made the same expression.

The lights suddenly snapped off, plunging everything into complete darkness. Emma instinctively made a grab for Ruby’s arm, as if the other woman might suddenly have disappeared just because the lights were out. Of course Ruby was still there, but she clutched back at Emma’s arm just as tightly.

More than the darkness, though, which was total as well as sudden, the bar was now completely quiet. On stage, War Council had been totally silenced. Emma could hear them shuffling, and adding their own and not undeserved upset voices to the murmur. They were beginning to grow and ripple through the crowd.

“What happened?”

Neal’s voice close to Emma’s ear made her jump and fling out the hand that wasn’t hanging on to Ruby’s arm. It connected solidly with Neal’s chest, making her knuckles sting.

“You asshole,” she hissed.

He made a sound, maybe it was apologetic, or meant to be, but Emma honestly couldn’t tell. By now, in addition to the murmurs gaining volume within the crowd, cell phones were beginning to light up as well. Flashes of LED screens and bright assistive lights came on, pointing this way and that.

“Shouldn’t the manager have said something by now?” Ruby asked, and if her voice was a little strained, Emma didn’t mention it. She did tighten her fingers on the guitar player’s arm, though.

Their second scare in as many minutes, another deep voice intoned between Emma and Ruby’s head, “Maybe it’s terrorists!”

They both jumped, and Ruby actually yelped her surprise. Killian and Neal both chuckled at their reactions, and Killian slung his arms over their shoulders. “Don’t worry, ladies. I’ll protect you!”

Emma rolled her eyes, and raised her foot. She stomped it down as hard as she could on the spot where she was hoping Killian’s was. To her great satisfaction, he grunted in pain, and soon his heavy arm disappeared from around her shoulder.

“I’m sure it’s just a downed power line or something,” Emma scolded them. They couldn’t see her, so she let the eye roll she wanted to give them bleed through in the tone of her voice. “You guys are such assh—”

“Do you hear that?” Ruby demanded suddenly, squeezing her nails into Emma’s bicep painfully.

“Hear what?” Killian demanded, his low rumble of a growl indicating his slight annoyance with Ruby’s behavior. Emma contemplated stomping on his other foot this time, but just as she was trying to locate it, her ears picked up on something too. It was a metronome-like clicking.

“Is something ticking?” Neal wondered out loud.

“If we blow up…” Killian muttered darkly.

“Shut _up_ ,” Ruby hissed at him. Her grip on Emma’s arm was suddenly extremely painful. Her sharp red nails were biting into her skin like little knives.

“Rubes, can you loosen up?” she asked with a wince. “Seriously, your nails fucking hurt.”

“Aww, is someone afraid of the dark?” Killian taunted, laughing. “Who would have thought the big bad—”

“Shut up shut up shut up!” Ruby released Emma’s arm, and a moment later Emma heard her hands connect solidly with what she guessed to probably be Killian’s leather jacket. Somewhere a little further behind Killian, Emma heard Robin whisper, “Why are we beating up Killian now?” and August hum back uncertainly.

The faint sound was getting louder, and it went from a metronome to the low steady beat of a bass drum. There was another murmur working its way through the crowd, and this time the slightly panicked edge of their confusion was gone.

Emma was just happy not to have Ruby’s nails digging into her arm anymore. Or at least, she was, until Ruby started slapping at her shoulder in excitement. She grimaced and snarled, “Jesus Christ, Ruby, what the actual fuck is wrong with you right now?”

 _“Listen!”_ The brunette’s voice was almost a choked squeal, she was so excited. She was practically vibrating in anticipation.

“What the hell’s gotten into you, luv?” Killian’s face seemed curious and almost concerned, and Emma was startled to realize that she could _see_ Killian’s face now. It was faint and probably only because he was so close between them, but there was at least a little bit of light in the room now. It was just faint, and tinted blue.

There were a few excited squeals from the dance floor. Emma looked at it, and found she could see more clearly the space that War Council occupied, and quickly concluded that this wasn’t part of their show, because not only did War Council look _furious_ , Mena was now next to the drum kit instead of sitting at it, and Ursula was having to hold her back from launching herself at the severe looking blonde that had taken her place.

Róisín stood stock still at her microphone, her face expressing more genuine emotion than Emma had ever seen from her before. She was enraged.

She cast her eyes to the side, to study Ruby’s face. Her face was tight too, but in hope and maybe a little fear. Her eyes were darting around the room, almost frantically looking for something. She looked at Neal and Killian, only to find them as confused as she was. Neal just shrugged at her and mouthed ‘I have no idea.’

Despite herself, Emma found herself getting excited. And she didn’t even know what she was getting excited about. Ruby was practically vibrating, and now her eyes locked disbelievingly on the new drummer.

“Oh. My. God.” Ruby whispered. She had her cell phone out and was typing like mad, her fingers flying over the touchpad so fast they were practically a blur. “Oh my god. Is this real?”

"Who are you even talking to?" Emma demanded. "What the hell is even happening?"

There were other similar reactions happening within the crowd now too. The blonde at the drums suddenly lifted her sticks and counted out a beat with them, and as soon as she did, practically the whole crowd went insane, cheers ripping from throats, LED phone screens waving in the air.

"What is _happening?_ Who is that?" Emma yelled over the cheering. Neal and Killian were every bit as confused as she was, too. For once, Emma felt perfectly in sync with them, and they moved a little closer to one another, almost as if converging in a unit would provide a little more understanding of their situation.

"It's the Regals!" Ruby grabbed Emma's shoulders and shook her. "It's the goddamn Evil Regals!"

Emma's mouth dropped open and she stared. At first she didn't understand, it seemed that this was much too impossible to be happening. It was just a trick, Emma had heard too much about their sudden disappearance in the last year and the consensus was that they were gone for good. This was a trick. It had to be. But the crowd was still thrashing, still going insane with manic joy. The lights were getting brighter, and Emma could see the same expressions painted on almost every face there that was on Ruby's right now. There were some few like Emma herself, and Neal and Killian as well, who didn't seem to understand what was happening. Or else they hadn't put the pieces together yet. Another thing Emma saw a lot of was cell phones. Many people, like Ruby, were furiously texting, or posting to some social media site.

A spotlight snapped on, and the crowd really went insane. It was focused on a woman, with brilliantly red hair. She was standing on the end of the bar, a bass guitar slung around her neck.

A man in dark jeans and a suit jacket walked out onto the stage with a guitar. He advanced on the band already there; War Council was now huddled together, looking stunned and angry. He played a harsh, discordant sound at them, and they all staggered away in surprise. He and the rest of the interlopers launched into the beginning of their song, and a cheer rose up when it was quickly recognized as one of the songs on the covers list.

Not just any song, Emma realized suddenly. This was the song the Lost Girls had requested first. This was Seether!

“That’s Gold; sometimes they call him the Imp,” Ruby yelled over the noise. She pointed at the drummer. “And that’s Malady.” Then she directed Emma’s attention to the bar. “That’s Zelena.”

“What’s with the stupid names?” Emma demanded, feeling bewildered. Was this actually happening? Ruby opened her mouth, but that was the moment the singing began.

_“Seether is neither loose nor tight_  
_Seether is neither black nor white”_

Heads turned frantically looking for the singer, but so far there was nothing. Up on the stage, the guitarist was penning War Council on the stage; their only escape route was behind them now. None of them looked inclined to leave; Mena still looked like she was going to claw someone’s eyes out.

_“I tried to keep her on short leash_  
_I tried to calm her down_  
_I tried to ram her into the ground, yeah”_

The singer’s voice was kind of gravelly, which suited the song, especially since they hadn’t changed the original arrangement much. The way she sang the lyrics, Emma thought suddenly, seemed almost apologetic. The big reveal was coming soon, Emma knew. It would have to be a perfect entrance. The Evil Regals had been gone for too long for it to be anything but. The way the guitarist worked the rival band was aggressive and purposeful. As much as Emma didn’t like anyone in War Council, she was feeling kind of bad for them. She didn’t envy them at all right now.

The final spotlight snapped on, illuminated the singer finally, and the crowd went wild again. War Council whirled as one, facing the brunette stalking toward them as she practically shouted the chorus, penning them in in tandem with her guitarist.

_“Can’t fight the seether_  
_Can’t fight the seether_  
_Can’t fight the seether_  
_I can’t see her till I’m foaming at the mouth!”_

There was a moment when Róisín’s eyes met the other singer’s, and Emma thought maybe it wasn’t Mena they had to worry about.

“The Queen,” Ruby breathed right into her ear, but of course Emma had already known that. She hadn’t understood the purpose of the nicknames before, but looking up there at the woman called the Queen, she got it suddenly. Even in leather pants and a shirt that was more cleavage and bared stomach than fabric, the woman held herself like royalty. She advanced on the opposing band like she was riding into war, her bright red lips snarling lyrics at them, grimacing around the words.

For a second Emma thought there was going to be a brawl, but then War Council backed down, surrendering their stage. Up on the bar, the redheaded bassist shouted their victory, kicking a bar glass into the mirror behind the bar. There were wild cheers of approval even as everyone within distance ducked the spray of glass and liquid as the glass shattered.

Emma lost a verse to watching the band work the crowd. The Queen stalked her stage, leaning forward into the swell of bodies pressing ever closer. The increased muscle made a lot of sense now, Emma thought as she watched Tiny and his colleagues physically keeping the surging crowd from spilling onto the stage with the band. The guitarist—Gold, Ruby said, but hell if she knew if that was a first or last name—seemed to be in his own little world, his feet jigging out of time with the music. At one point the singer leaned her back against him, shimmying down and up again before launching across the stage to shout into the crowd’s faces.

The energy was electric, and Emma found even herself falling under the woman’s sway. When she looked, Killian had a slack jawed expression of pure lust on his face. Neal looked intrigued and bemused, but that was so similar to his default anyway that she almost didn’t notice the difference. Ruby was enthusiastically jumping to the music.

The Queen found an opening in the wall of muscle protecting the stage and jumped off it before it could be filled, stepping into the crowd. Emma couldn’t stop herself from gaping at that; she definitely didn’t think she would have been brave enough for that. Not that she herself didn’t get involved with her crowds sometimes. But it was different tonight. The Evil Regals had been gone for so long, and this had turned from a slightly bored, disinterested crowd during War Council's set to something more akin to a wild animal feeding frenzy. Emma never would have looked at this crazy, thrashing, screaming crowd and thought that they would have anything even approaching enough control over themselves that she would feel safe enough to step off her stage and into them. But the Queen didn't even seem to think twice; she either wasn't worried about her safety in the least, or she was confident enough in her fans that she knew she wouldn't be molested.

Either way, it took a seriously large pair of balls to step into a crowd this far gone. Emma didn't know if she was impressed or scared.

But whatever it was that motivated the Queen, she was justified in it because where she stepped the crowd parted. She moved through the densest knots of people, trailing her fingers over her fans’ arms and cheeks, slipping around behind them only to suddenly scream a lyric into their ears. Emma had no problem watching her progress. She watched her grab someone by the chin and shove him back again ( _”Oh she is not born like other girls”_ ). She held her hand out and let people touch her as she slithered by ( _”But I know how to conceive her”_ ) The hands fell away as she walked, none of them trying to hold on, to keep her stationary. She leaned back into the crowd, letting them support her weight ( _”Oh she may not look like other girls”_ ) and miracle of all miracles, not a single goddamned hand copped a feel. Then she leapt back to her feet and ran to the stage, spitting lyrics ( _”But she’s a snarl toothed seether!”_ ) Her voice held the last ragged scream well into the guitar solo, till it trailed off like she just couldn’t physically keep it going anymore.

While the guitar solo was happening, the bartender behind the bar ran up and unplugged the bass. Hands scrambled to keep the bassist steady as she stepped off the bar and the crowd parted for her too as she ran up to the stage and plugged back in. She and the Queen leaned into the same microphone.

_“Can’t fight the seether_  
_Can’t fight the seether_  
_Can’t fight the seether”_

The redhead pulled away from the microphone and leaned her back against the Queen. On her other side, the guitarist was doing the same. The Queen’s hair was sticking to her neck and temples with sweat, and she had smudged her lipstick a little on the right side of her mouth. There were little rivulets of black mascara starting to run under her eyes. Her lips twisted into a rictus around the final lyric of the song.

_“I can’t see her till I’m foaming at the mouth!”_

Instead of playing the song out, the rest of the band stopped playing just moments after the last lyric ended. The drummer got up from her drums, pressing herself between the guitarist and the Queen; she gazed out into the crowd with an expression that seemed to Emma to be barely lucid. In stark contrast to that, the guitarist next to her was shrewd and sharp, and Emma had no doubt that he was assessing the insane and out of control cheers on the dance floor. Whatever he was looking for, he must have found it, because his lips turned up into a manic grin and he took a little jig step. Of course, the crowd roared. On the far side, the redhead was just smug, smirking without making eye contact with anyone.

The Queen didn’t smile. She stood with her arms thrust out in front of her, chest heaving as she breathed, but none of the exertion showing on her face. She kept her lips in a severe line, but there was something about the way she rested them, almost as though if they were to make an expression, it would be a mean smirk.

They waited a good ten minutes. The Queen slowly lowered her hands. The redhead and the guitarist relaxed their poses. The drummer spanned one hand along the Queen’s waist, fingers curling into belt loops. They waited while the cheers and the cries for an encore dimmed some, then heated right back up.

Then, at the very height of the cheers, the lights snapped off again. The screaming intensified. But for as long as they waited, nothing happened. No music, no singing, nothing. The cheers waned a little, becoming tinged with confusion again. Finally, suddenly, the spotlight came on, and the Evil Regals were gone. Instead of booing, instead of crying for more, the crowd just went nuts again. It took them an amazing thirty-seven minutes to settle down again.

Emma knew. She timed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used in this chapter:  
> Seether, by Veruca Salt


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Emma throws a fit, and the band receives some much needed moral support.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the thing. I'm rubbish at writing songs. So any of the songs I use do not belong to me. We'll just pretend that the ones I don't explicitly state are covers were written by the band and I'll cite them in the end notes.

_Evil Regals Live Again  
Astrid Nova_

_A year and a half ago, one of the hottest rising stars in the local music scene made an abrupt and unscheduled disappearance. In the months since the Evil Regals vanished, there has been much speculation on their whereabouts and whether or not they were ever going to return to the spotlight. Those of us here at the Bandit had explored every possible lead, and come no closer than anyone else to discovering what happened to the band or why. I, like many other fans, had resigned myself to accepting that the Evil Regals were not returning, and we would never know why they had gone away._

_Imagine my surprise when the first cover request in my inbox was from Zelena Mills, bassist for the band and lead singer Regina Mills’ sister. After approving the request, I neither heard from the band, nor saw them in our station to record. I even began to think that the request had been a joke, and was just about to put the requested song back on the list._

_And then, five days ago, the Regals made their unexpected and dramatic return to music. Their one song performance at the Pride Lands, which they crashed an ongoing War Council set to perform, has caused the music scene in Storybrooke to explode in excitement. Sadly, I wasn’t there to see what has been referred to across social media as the Regal Takeover, but like everyone else, I’ve been watching the videos on YouTube nonstop, and the performance is incredible._

_The Regals set up their Takeover flawlessly. By cutting the lights and letting silence reign, they expertly built up a level of confused tension that heightened the crowd’s senses. By the time the bass drum sets up its steady beat, the crowd is already buzzing with anticipation. Almost as one, some members of the audience seem to realize what is happening. In my favorite video of the performance, Ruby Lucas of the Lost Girls is seen bouncing on her fashionably high heels, phone in hand, while her friend and fellow Lost Girl Emma Swan stares on in confusion._

_When the lights come up enough to reveal Philomena De Ville standing next to her drums, and Malady coolly in her place, the audience almost doesn’t seem to understand what has happened. But when a light snaps on to illuminate Zelena Mills standing on the bar, it’s clear that this isn’t a fake out, and the crowd goes nuts. Guitarist R. Gold takes the stage next, advancing on War Council and playing his guitar at them like he was swinging a sword._

_By the time the Queen makes an appearance, she’s already a verse into the song, and she stalks the members of War Council like a hyena. No proud lioness there, this was a manic scavenging. She was poaching the stage like it was her god given right, and the audience was willing to be stolen._

_The performance itself is incredible. Though the Evil Regals haven’t been seen in over a year, they perform together as though they never stopped. Their interaction with the crowd and with each other is flawless. The Queen’s constant movement keeps all eyes locked on her. And the song choice itself was sheer brilliance. Their cover of Veruca Salt’s song Seether deviated very little from the original, musically speaking. It was the way it was sung that made it different, each lyric spat out like a call to arms, an aggressive promise of more. We see the lyrics reflected back at us in the Queen’s frenzied movements, through the crowd, with her band, leaping and arching like a live wire across the stage. Though they played just the one song, it took the crowd nearly forty minutes after the band disappeared again to calm their cheering and chanting._

_In the week since the Regal Takeover, the band itself has yet to be heard from. Despite my numerous attempts to contact them, phone calls and email messages are still going unanswered. Unable to contact the Evil Regals themselves, I decided instead to take a different route, and see what other bands have to say on the surprising return._

_Perhaps predictably, certainly understandably, the members of War Council have not had much to say about the performance. While front woman Róisín Ghorm could not be reached at all, drummer Philomena De Ville was very vocal on the matter. In the interest of not being fired for using language unsuitable for the young eyes that might find their way to this blog, let’s just say she wasn’t happy._

_Killian Jones of the Jolly Rogers just laughed it off. “Well, they’re embarrassed, aren’t they? Lost their crowd after just one song, I wouldn’t talk to you either.”_

_“I don’t know what to think,” Emma Swan of the Lost Girls told one of our interns here at the Bandit during a last minute phone interview. “I can’t deny it was pretty effective, but it was kind of a dick move. Mostly we’re all just wondering if we’re going to be next.”_

_In the background, Intern Marian says she heard guitarist Ruby Lucas shout, “We should be so lucky!”_

_But perhaps most surprising of all, was the prepared statement I received via email from female vocalist Aurora Philips, of the band Heartless. Heartless, for those of you that have been living under rocks, are a local heavy metal group that blew up nationwide nearly ten years ago. They gave the Evil Regals’ front woman Regina Mills her start in music, and officially endorsed the band in their first live performances. They did a small local tour together before Heartless signed with a major record label, and it is widely known that Mills was engaged to their drummer before an accidental drug overdose took his life._

_Of the Evil Regals’ triumphant return, Philips says this:_

_“We think it’s great. We’ve known the Regals a long time, and they’ve always been such creative powerhouses. Honestly, if it weren’t for Regina’s help in those early days, and Zelena, too, Heartless might not have the career we have today. A hiatus this long might have killed any other band, but the Regals are using it as an unprecedented opportunity to renew interest in their sound. We have nothing but respect for them and what they’re doing, and we can’t wait to see how far they take it. We’ll definitely be watching.”_

_I don’t think any of us could have said it better ourselves. We’ll be watching too._

* * *

 

Emma clutched the microphone stand and leaned on it, banging her head to the sound of her band behind her. There was a smattering of random and half hearted cheers from the crowd but at this point it was painfully obvious that nearly everyone had lost interest in what they were doing. They’d started their set with a full house, but by the time they made it half way through their list, and it became clear that there was not going to be a Regal Takeover tonight, people started leaving. Probably in search of another band they didn’t really want to see, just on the off chance that the Regals would show up there. In the two weeks since the first Takeover, there’d been two more. They crashed a King of Hearts show three songs into that, and two days later took over a Jolly Rogers set midway through their list. Consensus seemed to be, if you made it through five songs, the Regals were probably not coming for you. And everyone was so hopped up on the Evil Regal high that other bands were suffering for it.

Frustrated, Emma kicked the water bottle at her feet off the stage; there were a few squeals nearby when water sprayed whoever was sitting there. Emma didn’t care. They were probably Evil Regal bitches about to leave to find the Regals anyway. Fuck them. Fuck everyone. She knelt and ripped the set list off the floor, shredding it to pieces and gesturing for Ruby and Belle to come close.

“Play Horrible,” she commanded. “And then fuck off. We’re done here.”

Grim, her band agreed. Tina counted them off with her sticks, then went right into the song. Ruby and Belle were right behind her, and Emma clutched her microphone again. She made her voice sweet as she sang the first lyrics.

_“I can’t exist anymore_  
_Till I destroy you_  
_I hate everyone_  
_Don’t know what to do”_

They’d been playing this song since the beginning but it had never felt so fitting, Emma thought while she finished the first verse. She ran close to the edge of the small stage to scream the chorus at the sliver of light at the back of the bar that she’d come to associate with people leaving.

_“Horrible_  
_Now everything’s horrible_  
_Horrible!”_

She sang a couple of lines with Ruby, then thrashed around in frustration into the second chorus, making random sounds vaguely in rhythm with Ruby and Belle, while they played leaning against one another. Belle helped her out with the beginning of the last verse, and then she ran up front to put the microphone in the stand, and sing the last lines by herself.

_“Self centered devil spawn_  
_This makes me durable_  
_Or am I criminal?_  
_I’m fucking horrible!”_

Her eyes closed, she screamed the very last chorus till her throat was raw, letting the song end with a ragged, cracking cry of _“Now everything’s horrible!”_ Feeling petulant, she snarled one last time into the microphone, then slapped it down to the ground, where the feedback drowned out the final note of Ruby’s guitar. Without looking back, she stormed off the stage.

“That was immature,” Belle told her later, when she and the rest of the band appeared in the back room. Emma was already shoving her arms into the sleeves of her jacket. The night was warm, and she was already sweating from her antics on stage, but she didn’t care. She’d sweated right through her white Mario and Yoshi t-shirt, and her bra was visible in all its neon orange glory. She zipped the leather jacket over it. Looking at Belle, she pretended to search through her pockets.

“Look at all the fucks I have,” she snapped, spreading her empty hands sarcastically. “This is bullshit, and you _know_ it!”

“You don’t have to act like a brat,” Tina told her sharply, putting a reassuring hand on Belle’s shoulder. “You aren’t the only one in this band!”

Ruby added, “That stunt you just pulled out there is prime material for Nova, too. You know that.”

“Like Astrid Fucking Nova was even there!” Emma yelled, pushing her hands through her wet, tangled hair in frustration. “She’s just like everyone else! Out looking for whoever the Evil Regals are going to fuck over next!”

“So what!” Ruby got in her face and screamed back. “You being a douche isn’t helping us either! No one wants to see a band whose singer storms off the stage in a temper tantrum! I’m not saying don’t be pissed, we are _all_ mad as hell, but don’t be a bitch about it!”

They squared off for another moment, toe to toe, both of them breathing heavy. Then Emma blew out a heavy, deep sigh, and took a step back. She shook her head. “You’re right. I know that. I’m sorry, you guys. I’m just so…” She made a noise of disgust.

Tina rushed forward suddenly, all her ire replaced with compassion, and threw her arms around Emma’s neck. Emma stiffened in surprise, but it didn’t take her but a moment to relax and hug the small blonde back warmly. She grinned at Belle and Ruby, both of whom had fond smiles on their faces as they watched Tina squeeze Emma as hard as she could.

“It’s okay, Emma,” Tina told her brightly when she pulled back. “We understand. We’re frustrated too.”

Ruby reached out and poked Tina’s shoulder. “You’re not. Right now, you’re just adorable.”

Tina scrunched her nose at Ruby, stomping her foot playfully. “I’m not! I’m mad!” But the fierce look on her face melted into a grin soon enough. Emma laughed at them, and Tina pouted. “I can be more than one emotion at once!”

“No you can’t, Tink,” Belle disagreed. “But that’s why we love you.”

“Oh my god, you guys,” Emma groaned, tilting her head back to hide the way her smile widened. “I get it, okay? I’m a brat, I’m sorry, I’ll do better. Just please, let’s quit it with the love fest.”

Ruby, Belle, and Tina exchanged wicked grins. All at once they rushed forward, and Emma suddenly found herself trapped in all their arms, being squeezed to death. It was uncomfortable, yes, and maybe they were going to fall over if they weren’t careful, but Emma was laughing now instead of throwing a fit.

“You guys are the worst,” she muttered affectionately. “Come on, let’s go back to my place. I’ve got comfort food.”

“I don’t know that cereal counts as comfort food,” Belle said thoughtfully. They made their way through the dimly lit bar, waving to the few people that acknowledged them as they went. This time, though, Emma barely noticed how empty the place was. She was too busy defending her comfort food of choice.

“It’s actually the best comfort food,” she said seriously. “And you’d know that if you’d ever had to cry into a bowl of Cocoa Puffs before.”

“Oh my god, no, that’s disgusting!” Ruby laughed. Before they went back to Emma’s apartment, they brought Belle’s old station wagon around the back of the bar, and loaded up Tina’s drums. The kit barely fit, especially when they added the two guitars, and by the time the rest of them were ready to pile in, they were basically sitting on top of one another. Belle drove them to Emma’s building, and they clambered up the stairs still debating the merits of cereal as a comfort food.

Just as they got to the top of the landing, the door to Emma’s apartment swung open, making them all squeal in surprise. Mary Margaret glared at them from inside, David Nolan grinning at them from over her shoulder. In her best first grade teacher voice, Mary Margaret scolded them, “Honestly, girls, I could hear you from the bottom of the stairs! People could be trying to sleep!”

“Mary Margaret!” Ruby skipped the last two steps and flung herself through the door to hug Emma’s roommate. The rest of them followed at a more sedate pace.

“Hey David,” Emma gave him a little wave. “Nice to see you.” David stepped forward and pulled her against his chest. Emma rolled her eyes but tucked her arms up and over his broad shoulders. “I’ve been getting more hugs tonight than I know what to do with. What are you guys doing here?”

“Mary Margaret brought you popcorn balls,” David told her.

Emma narrowed her eyes. “She brought me— What?”

“You have to take them, Emma,” David pleaded, eyes wide. “There are so many of them. You have to take them!”

Mary Margaret appeared at his side and swatted his shoulder. “Don’t be rude. There aren’t that many of them!” To the band, she explained, “It’s the end of the school year and I teach first grade. What else am I supposed to do with them? I’m running out of ways to entertain them, and I won’t have them watching movies when we could be doing something interactive. So, we strung lines of popcorn to hang in trees for the birds. But I severely underestimated how much popcorn 25 first graders have access to, so now we have popcorn balls too. Also about six boxes of unpopped popcorn. And David is right. You are going to take them.”

Tina had already found the box of them on the coffee table and was digging through them. She held up two triumphantly. “I’m taking the green ones!”

“Don’t you have to use the stove to make these?” Belle asked, picking through the box herself. “How in the world were you allowed to let 25 first graders use the stove?”

Mary Margaret blushed. “I…may…owe the kitchen staff a very large favor. And the kids didn’t touch anything, they only picked the colors and watched.”

Ruby laughed at their friend and threw a blue one at Emma’s head. It bounced off her ear and rolled towards Tina’s armchair. She pounced on it and added it to her hoard of green ones.

“You sounded very excited coming up the stairs,” David commented, settling on the couch with his girlfriend. “Good show?”

“Actually, it was terrible,” Emma said casually, snatching her blue popcorn ball back from Tina and poking her tongue out when the drummer glared at her. She sat on the floor and leaned her shoulder against Tina’s knees. “Everyone left halfway through to go look for the Evil Regals. I threw a big fit and we ended early.”

“Oh, _Emma,_ ” Mary Margaret sighed.

“It’s okay, I already yelled at her,” Ruby consoled around a mouthful of red popcorn. But now that they were talking about it again, their anger settled over them once more. Emma picked at the sticky popcorn in her hand, scowling.

“They are such _assholes,_ ” she muttered finally.

“Who, sweetie?” Mary Margaret asked. “The Evil Regals, or everyone else?”

“Either,” Emma growled. “Both. Everyone. _Everyone_ sucks.”

Ruby pointed one sharp red nail at her. “That is a true statement.”

But Mary Margaret was chewing on her lip, looking thoughtful. Hesitantly, she said, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you’re just handling it wrong.”

David winced and made no effort to protect his girlfriend as four hands suddenly launched popcorn balls in their direction. Mary Margaret shrieked and ducked, throwing up her hands to shield herself. Tina lasted the longest, since she’d picked out every green snack from the box, and every time she threw one, it hit Mary Margaret sharply on the top of the head. Belle and Ruby were crawling on the floor gathering them all back up for another round, when Mary Margaret leapt to her own defense.

“That’s not what I meant!” she cried. “It came out wrong! Stop throwing things at me!”

Tina glared harder and threw three popcorn balls in quick succession as Belle handed them to her. Two hit Mary Margaret in the chest but she caught the third one and, to everyone’s surprise, launched it directly into Tina’s face. Tina sat stunned, blinking rapidly. They all broke into laughter, and after a moment, even Tina joined in. The tension dissolved away, and the Lost Girls allowed Mary Margaret to explain.

“I only meant that you shouldn’t give up. These Takeovers are still new and exciting. The shine will wear off of them eventually, and once that happens, you’ll be having good shows again.”

Emma huffed. “Yeah, but that doesn’t help us _now._ We had just gotten to the point where people were coming out to see us, and now we’re back where we started!”

“Oh, that’s not true,” Mary Margaret protested. “The people that liked you before still like you, and they’ll remember that. But not if you give up.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that there’s no one to play for,” Ruby pointed out. “It really is like Emma said. It’s easy to say we won’t give up, but realistically, it doesn’t help unless we’re playing for, you know, _people.”_

Mary Margaret opened her mouth to reply, then snapped it shut again, looking stumped. She tilted her head thoughtfully, but it was David who replied. “Well, they’re going to have to crash one of _your_ shows at some point, aren’t they?”

Stunned silence. Then Belle got up. Everyone watched her as she walked to the coffee table, picked up the box of popcorn balls, and dumped it over David’s head. She walked back to her seat and sat down, crossing her arms with a huff.

Emma laughed and pointed at her. “What she said, dude.”

Even David had to laugh while he picked candied popcorn out of his lap and the couch cushions. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant that at some point, the crowd that shows up for the Evil Regals are going to get the Evil Regals. But who will be left on stage after they’ve finished their _one_ song?”

The band all looked at one another, surprised.

“But…everyone always leaves when the Regals poach a show,” Tina said hesitantly.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you have to,” Mary Margaret spoke to them slowly, as if they were her first graders and she was leading them to a conclusion. “Wait until they’re gone and everyone settles down and keep playing. Nothing is stopping you.”

“You’re…right,” Ruby realized. She blinked at the rest of the band. “Why did we not realize this? Why has _no one_ realized this?”

“Because we’re idiots,” Emma muttered. “Really big, dumb, stupid idiots.”

“Exactly!” Mary Margaret agreed brightly, grinning when they all glared at her. “Look, you guys are good. And this is no big deal. Just wait it out, and pretty soon you’ll be back where you were before all this started.”

“Ugh, you’re disgustingly optimistic,” Emma grumbled.

“No, I just think you’re better than you give yourself credit for. Anyway, just because they’re back _now_ doesn’t mean they’ll be here forever. They disappeared once, didn’t they?”

Emma sat up. “Hey, yeah. That’s a good point. Maybe they’ll drop off the face of the earth again!”

Ruby chuckled. “Awesome. Let’s just wait for them to do that, then.”

This time, all the popcorn balls were launched in her direction.

* * *

 

Emma snapped her gum and swung her hair to the music playing as she restocked CDs the next afternoon. The visit with Mary Margaret and David last night had really lifted her spirits. August was baffled by her sudden change in demeanor; he was leaning on the front counter by the cash register, just watching her. He’d already tried prying out of her just what exactly had put her in such a good mood, but all Emma would tell him was that she woke up on the right side of the bed. It was driving him nuts, and Emma was loving every second of it.

The bell over the door chimed, and then Emma heard Belle’s voice greeting August.

“Emma’s over there,” August interrupted the woman. “She’s acting weird.”

Slipping the last CD into its place on the rack, Emma spun around and waved Belle over. The bassist had a ratty old messenger bag slung over one shoulder, which she clutched closer to her hip as she made her way to where Emma was. Emma grinned at her. “Hey! What’s the occasion?”

“I can’t stay long, I’m on my lunch break,” Belle explained. “But I kind of wanted to talk to you about something. Can you take a break?”

“Sure. Wanna come back with me?” She nodded toward the break room. Belle smiled and let Emma lead her back there, looking a little nervous to be in what Emma knew she considered to be a restricted area to a non-employee. She nudged her worried friend gently. “Don’t worry, as long as you’re with me, you’re fine. Leroy only acts like an asshole.” She frowned. “I think. Anyway, he’s back in his office,” she pointed to the closed door, where they could vaguely make out two shadows behind the blinds, “with his girlfriend right now, so he’s not coming out any time soon.”

Belle blinked. “Your boss has a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, she’s super sweet. I have no idea what her name is, but she comes in every so often and brings him lunch. It’s kind of adorable.”

“Get back to work, Swan!” Leroy’s gruff shout was muffled by the door between them.

“I’m taking my lunch!” Emma yelled back with a roll of her eyes.

Grinning now, feeling more comfortable, Belle sat down at the table and brought out her laptop. While she waited for it to boot up, she explained the reason for her impromptu visit. “So, you know how everyone is pretty jumpy waiting for the Evil Regals to come steal our shows?” When Emma nodded, Belle pointed at her screen. “I think I sort of…found something? Maybe. Does this place have wifi?”

Emma gave her the password so she could connect. “What do you mean found something?”

“There’s this Facebook page called Tracking the Takeovers. It started out as just a bunch of fans posting pictures of the band and things like that, but it’s kind of evolved into something else.” She typed furiously for a moment, then slapped the enter key and turned the screen to show Emma. Emma leaned across the table and scanned the page. After a moment, she shook her head.

“All I see are a bunch of comments about potential sites for the next Takeover.”

Belle clicked on one of photos from the very first War Council Takeover. “Read those, then tell me I’m not crazy.”

The comments were mostly just picture replies of the same Takeover, and a bunch of excited exclamations. Emma skimmed them quickly, but didn’t see anything really out of the ordinary. She reached out to drag her finger over the touch pad, loading more replies and pictures. Half way down this new section of Evil Regal fan flailing, though, was a picture that caught her eye. It wasn’t the best quality, so Emma had to squint to make out the details. What she saw was the corner of a mirror somewhere. Someone had drawn a red crown on it with a window marker, and nestled along the bottom curve of the crown was a date written in green. Emma blinked at it, then read the comment attached to the photo.

_“This has been on the corner mirror in the bathroom at the Pride Lands for three weeks. Date coincides with the very first WC Takeover. Every time it gets washed off, someone draws it back on. Can’t be a coincidence!”_

Emma blinked, slowly. Then she read the comment again. And again. She took the computer from Belle and pulled it close. Yep, those little green numbers certainly did coincide with that day. She looked up at Belle, and blinked.

Belle chuckled. “It’s probably crazy, right? There’s no way this was a clue. Right?”

“It… _seems_ …completely nuts,” Emma agreed.

For a moment they just stared at each other. Then, Belle nodded sharply and shut the lid of her computer. “I’ll keep my eye on this.”

“That seems like a good idea,” Emma agreed. “But…maybe don’t tell anyone else yet? Just in case it’s nothing?”

“That was my thought, too.” Belle nodded. “This would be really handy, wouldn’t it?”

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” Emma nodded vigorously. But then she chuckled. “Not that things are usually that easy for us.”

“True.” Belle shrugged. “Maybe this time, though?”

“Yeah. Maybe this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used this chapter:  
> Horrible, by Jack Off Jill


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's another Takeover, and Emma has a couple of confrontations.

In the time that had passed since the first Evil Regal Takeover, Emma's life continued on much as it normally did. Their cover of Dangerous Type finally aired, and they requested and recorded another song for the Bandit, which then got released accordingly. Their upbeat, riot rock rendition of the Pixie's Where Is My Mind? went over really well and got a lot of play on the radio, which generated new interest in them, which in turn meant that not everyone left their shows when the Evil Regals didn't show up. Something even more interesting happened when, a week after Emma's little temper tantrum, the Regals crashed a War Council set right at the end. The crowd that had showed up hoping for a Takeover had long since left, looking at other venues for the band. When they actually did show up to chase War Council off the stage, the place was practically empty. And the Regals took advantage of the smaller crowd by making it the most interactive of the Takeovers so far. The Queen hopped the bar and stole a bottle of Jack from the shelves and then stood on the counter, pouring liquor into any mouth that opened up below her. Emma was fascinated by that video in particular, and she spent a lot of time at work with her phone under the counter, watching the Queen on her knees, yanking on ponytails so she could tip the bottle over, not caring if she actually made her mark or just poured alcohol down people's shirts, sneering as she did.

As a band, Emma and the Lost Girls considered it their job to watch every YouTube video that went up of a Regal Takeover. They would huddle in Emma's apartment, searching for each and every angle of each and every Takeover. They even started downloading them, and each video went into its own folder, and each Lost Girl took the videos with them on memory sticks, and maybe that was a little obsessive, but they were determined not to let this get the best of them. They watched how the band performed together, how each band member performed individually, and how the band being ambushed reacted. Emma tracked Killian down the day after their second Takeover and smacked him hard upside the head, because in one particular angle of that performance, she clearly saw him grab the bassist's ass. It didn't even matter that Zelena Mills literally knocked his lecherous ass off the stage afterward. And it also didn't matter to Emma that she had no intention of ever sleeping with Killian Jones again or that it wasn't any of her business who he groped. She just couldn't let him think that kind of behavior was okay.

Of course, she was realistic about her chances of making him care. He'd just grinned at her and shrugged. Robin had saved her the trouble of smacking him that time, but Emma wasn't sure she appreciated his effort. In the same video, she'd watched him try to get a look down _both_ the Mills women's shirts. Which Emma thought was especially gross, because it wasn't like they both didn't show a lot of cleavage as it was.

But for all the homework they did, Emma was starting to think they weren't going to fall victim to a Regal Takeover themselves. Even Astrid Nova noticed, calling them out on her blog, demanding to know what was so special about them. Emma was happy to give her the metaphorical finger and just keep on performing. So of course it happened just as they were starting to feel comfortable again.

When she thought about it later, she realized that she'd actually started to feel funny about the performance while they were setting up. There were a lot of people in the crowd wearing Evil Regal shirts. That wasn't really the unusual part, since a lot of people did that these days, showed up to each and every gig anyone did in old Regal merchandise, just in case the Regals showed up. Sometimes there were girls in little plastic crowns, which Emma thought was particularly ridiculous. But what caught Emma's attention was the way the people in the Regal gear seemed especially buzzed.

"Is this weird?" she asked Ruby before they went on.

"Is what weird?"

"I don't know. It feels like they know something. Are you not feeling it too?"

Ruby shrugged. "No? I'm trying not to pay attention to them. In thirty minutes, half these jerks will be gone anyway."

"I guess you're right," Emma agreed uncertainly. "I'm probably just nervous."

Ruby clapped her on the shoulder. "Well, get over it, good buddy. Time to get this shit over with so we can go cry into our Cocoa Puffs."

Emma laughed, and went to go introduce the band. They opened with their cover of Dangerous Type, starting with something you could jump to. The first few songs on their set list were lively, lots of quick fingered guitar and lightning fast drumming, a way for them to try to get the audience into it so when they realized that the Regals weren't showing up, more of them were inclined to stay. Then they'd sneak in a few of their slower, more vocally intense songs, and close out with Where Is My Mind? They were going to do their damnedest to hook people and keep their crowd. They were becoming strategists of the stage. It was actually exhausting, having to structure this way.

They made it half way through their second song when the lights cut off.

"Oh, shit!" Ruby whispered.

"I'm unplugged," Belle added, plucking her bass to demonstrate. Emma left the microphone on its stand and went to stand with her band. They converged in front of Tina's drums. The crowd was cheering, but there was no surprise in it this time. Were they really getting so used to the Takeovers then? Maybe Mary Margaret was right when she said that they'd lose their appeal sooner rather than later. Emma could only hope.

"Where are they?" Tina whispered, tapping her sticks nervously. "Shouldn't the blonde chick be kicking me off my drums by now?"

That made them all blink, and look around, even though they couldn't really see anything yet. They waited for Malady to come out, to remove Tina from her place on the drums, they way it had always happened before, but it didn't happen. Then a steady guitar started strumming. Tina's mouth dropped open in surprise; she whipped her head around, looking for their competition and coming up with nothing.

"Where are they?" Ruby hissed. "Where the hell are they?"

_“Tie yourself to me_   
_No one else”_

The low, husky voice surprised them all. No lights had come on, they were the only ones on the stage, and they couldn’t find the opposing band in the darkness. This was different than the other Takeovers had been, and they weren’t sure what to make of it.

_“No, you’re not rid of me_   
_You’re not rid of me”_

Emma’s lips twisted into a rueful grin when she recognized the song. This was the second time they’d lost a song on the Bandit’s list to the Evil Regals. And they’d talked enough with the Jolly Rogers to know that they’d lost out a few too; it was clear the Bandit was giving preference to the Regals. Still looking for the Queen, she drifted back towards her microphone, using one hand to hold the stand so she could lean her weight on it a little.

_“Night and day I breathe_   
_Hey, you’re not rid of me_   
_Yeah, you’re not rid of me”_

Soft light lit the middle of audience, and there she was. The crowd around her parted, gasping in surprise. The Queen had a guitar around her neck, her fingers strumming over it nimbly. This was a first; never before had she played an instrument during these Takeovers. Actually, Emma had been watching videos of Evil Regal performances from before the disappearance, and she hadn’t played anything then, either. Her voice was soft but her eyes were severe as she looked up to the stage and met Emma’s eyes. Her lips formed a mean little smirk around her lyrics.

_“I beg you, my darling_   
_Don’t leave me,_   
_I’m hurting”_

None of the other band members were visible. Still, a voice Emma had come to know as Zelena’s whispered through the room, adding to the song even as the Queen groaned the next verse into the headset clipped to her dress. She moved as she sang, her eyes locked onto Emma’s, and Emma was helpless to do anything but watch the woman come ever closer to where she was standing.

_“I’ll tie your legs_   
_Keep you against my chest_   
_Oh, you’re not rid of me_   
_Yeah, you’re not rid of me”_

She ascended onto the stage, circling around Ruby and coming to trail her fingernails along Emma’s shoulder blades. The pause in the music made everyone draw in a quiet breath, and Emma shivered under the unexpected contact. Emma found the Queen’s voice to be even more alluring, now. Standing so close, she could hear all the little hitches of her breath when she inhaled, the way her throat caught a little between words. The way her fingers moved over the guitar was fascinating.

_“I’ll make you lick my injuries_   
_I’m gonna twist your head off, see”_

The music intensified, and even though Emma knew the Queen’s scream was coming, she still jumped back when the woman whirled on her and snarled into her face.

_“Till you say don’t you wish you never_   
_Never met her?_   
_Don’t you, don’t you wish you never_   
_Never met her?”_

Brown eyes flickered to Emma briefly, and Emma felt herself freeze under the gaze. She felt trapped, afraid to make any sudden movements, or even any movement at all. There was something wild in the Queen’s eyes, something that translated into the way she played her instrument and the way she snapped lyrics off into the audience. This was an aggressive song, intense in lyrics if not in sound, and something in the Queen cracked like glass while she sang it.

Emma clutched her microphone harder and listened.

_“I beg you, my darling_   
_Don’t leave me,_   
_I’m hurting_   
_Been lonely_   
_Above everything_   
_Above everyday_   
_I’m hurting”_

The longer she sang, the huskier her voice got, lowering to registers Emma had never heard for these lyrics before. She felt her own lips forming the next lines, felt her throat tighten the way it would if she were singing it, as she had sung it before, high and almost whining. The way she’d first heard it and learned it, and the way Zelena was, unseen, accompanying the Queen herself.

_“Lick my legs,_   
_I’m on fire_   
_Lick my legs,_   
_Of desire”_

And, to her shock, Zelena’s wasn’t the only voice to accompany the Queen. By some oversight, some random accident, Emma’s microphone was still on, and her own voice creaked out the lyrics too. The Queen whipped towards her, as surprised as Emma. Then those wide brown eyes narrowed, fury blazing in them. She stalked closer to Emma, close enough that Emma felt her fingers strumming against her stomach, and snared Emma’s eyes with her own, refusing to let Emma look away.

_“Yeah, you’re not rid of me_   
_You’re not rid of me_   
_I’ll make you lick my injuries_   
_I’m gonna twist your head off, see”_

Emma gulped. There was no mistaking it. The Queen was furious with her. As if it were Emma’s fault her mic hadn’t been cut with the rest of her band. As if it were her fault the Queen was so mesmerizing, Emma had no choice but to sing along to this song she knew. As if Emma had attacked her first.

_“Don’t you wish you,_   
_Wish you never, never met her_   
_Don’t you wish you,_   
_Wish you never, never met her_   
_Don’t you wish you,_   
_Wish you never, never met her”_

Emma stumbled away from the microphone, and the Queen’s assault, which was getting louder and louder, shouted in Emma’s face. She felt hands on her back; Ruby and Belle had both started forward when she reeled away from the Queen.

“Are you okay?” Ruby whispered into her ear.

Emma nodded once, shortly. Out of the corner of her mouth, she hissed back, “I think she’s fucking crazy.”

It was meant to be funny. Ruby didn’t laugh. Emma waited, hoping maybe Ruby simply hadn’t registered the joke. But Ruby’s eyes were on the Queen, so Emma knew she’d heard, and the troubled look on her face said she maybe agreed. Emma sighed.

“We’re finishing our set. Be ready to pick up where we left it.”

The Queen was no longer playing her instrument. Instead she had grabbed Emma’s microphone and was leaning on it. She was screaming hoarsely into it, her teeth bumping against its head as she swayed with the force of her performance.

_“Lick my legs, I’m on fire_   
_Lick my legs, of desire_   
_Lick my legs, I’m on fire,_   
_Lick my legs, of desire_   
_Lick my legs, I’M ON FIRE”_

 

* * *

"Holy shit."

Belle smirked at Emma. "I would say that that went very well."

Emma blinked. "Holy shit!"

Tina bumped her shoulder as she came by with one of her snares. "I can't get over how confused everyone was when we started playing again." She snickered. "So funny!"

"Holy shit!" Emma told her.

"It was definitely weird," Ruby agreed. "I've never felt energy like that before. It was fun. But I think it broke Emma."

Emma whipped her head around. "Holy—"

Ruby slapped her palm over Emma's mouth. "We know, we know. Holy shit. Are you going to say anything else? Or can you only communicate in confused expletives now?"

" _What_ just happened?"

Ruby laughed. "Oh good. Guys, she's back!" Lowering her voice, she murmured, "I was going to try slapping you next."

"For a while there," Emma admitted with a laugh, "I thought _she_ was going to do that too!" She ran shaking fingers through her hair. "Holy shit, she was angry."

"Oh, boo hoo. Poor her." Ruby mimed wiping her eyes with her fists. "She got a taste of her own medicine. Pretty sure I _don't_ care. What was up with that anyway?"

Emma shrugged. "No clue. I guess someone forgot to turn my mic off. I didn't mean to actually _sing,_ I just…"

"Got into it," Belle finished, nodding from where she'd been listening at the car. "We understand. We're all loaded up. Are you coming?"

"Shit, I forgot my jacket. Give me like, three seconds!" Emma began to jog back inside.

"It's summer, Emma!" Ruby called after her. "Time to hang the leather up for a while!"

"Never!" Emma cried back. "Seriously! Three seconds! Wait there!"

The jacket was in the manager's office. She could just slip in and out again without having to stop and chat with anyone. The office was dark when she got there; she pumped a fist in triumph for her stealth. She kept the door cracked a little so there was some light, dim though it was, while she searched for the chain on the desk lamp. She only registered the sounds of someone else moving with her in the room as she was grabbing the chain to pull it.

"Don't—" Too late. She yanked down on the chain as the unfamiliar voice urged her not to, and she immediately wished she hadn't. Because Emma actually had the worst luck ever, and it was Regina Mills sitting in the leather chair behind the desk. The chair that Emma's jacket was hanging on.

"Holy _shit."_ The brunette was blinking against the sudden light, but at the sound of Emma's voice she zeroed in, and her eyes immediately narrowed. Emma threw up her hands in defense. "Hey, no, I had no idea you were even in here, plus all the lights were off, so it's totally not my fault you were sitting in here in the dark." The woman made no response, so Emma lowered her hands and sort of grinned. "Um, hi?"

The Queen simply blinked at her, then opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a silver flask. Emma goggled as she unscrewed it and took a sip.

"Are you kidding me with that?" Emma pointed at the open drawer. "How did you know that would be there? Is this, like, a movie, or are we seriously living that cliche right now?" She squinted her eyes at the woman sitting half shadowed behind the desk. "Hey, you look familiar. Have we met before?"

Emma was babbling and she knew it, but she couldn't stop herself. The Queen was just so _uncanny,_ sitting there in the dark like some sort of mob boss or some shit. And now, the way she just stared, the silence between them just thickened. It crawled into Emma's throat and she had to fill it somehow. She had no idea what she was going to say, but she opened her mouth again anyway.

"Do you _ever_ stop talking, Miss Swan?"

Her jaw snapped shut so quickly she heard it click. "You know my name?"

"Of course I do, I am not an _idiot,"_ the Queen snapped. She leaned her head back, closing her eyes warily. "Are you here for a reason, or is disturbing me your only purpose in life tonight?"

Emma's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "What the fuck, lady? _I'm_ disturbing _you?"_

"At this moment? Yes, you are."

"Okay, let's get one thing straight," Emma pushed her hands down on the desk and leaned forward, until she was close enough that the Queen's eyes opened to regard her lazily. Something about that stare chilled her, but Emma was too pissed to give it much thought. "You and your little group are the assholes running around town making the rest of our lives miserable! I didn't _mean_ to join your stupid song, it's not _my fault_ my mic was live, but I'm not sorry I did it, okay?" She paused, then leaned back, and a tentative grin tilted her lips. "Besides, it was kind of fun, don't you think?"

The Queen sat up a little, her head tilting. She didn't smile, but something about her seemed a little warmer. "I suppose we did not sound…terrible…together." Then her eyes narrowed again, and she was suddenly sharper, more alert than she'd been. "But please don't mistake this as an invitation."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not interested in…whatever it is you were about to suggest." The Queen sat back, smirking at her. "I don't care about you, or your _Lost Girls,"_ she infused as much contempt into those two words as Emma had ever heard. "All you need to do, Miss Swan, is stand there, and shut up, while I do my job. Do what you want after that, but if you interfere with me again, I _will_ destroy you. Do we have an understanding?"

Emma gaped.

"Was there something you came for, my dear, or did you just want to stand there with your mouth open for a while longer?"

Emma's resolve hardened. She leaned forward again, reaching for her jacket, which was tucked behind the Queen's back. Grasping the collar, she ripped the article of clothing out from behind the other woman roughly. She smiled sweetly, and cooed, "Just forgot my jacket. Have a nice night."

She stormed out of the office, muttering as she went, "God, what a _bitch."_

* * *

After that night it was almost as if she and the others had been inducted into some kind of I Survived A Regal Takeover club or something. For a solid week afterward, she and the other Lost Girls would go out, and they'd get these looks. From the fans, it was narrow eyed and speculative, like they were now having to fit the Lost Girls into their mental strategies for finding the Evil Regals. From other bands, it was these sharp nods of solidarity, fist bumps and shots they could toast to, like they really had survived something together. Emma thought the whole thing was just completely ridiculous. But no one mentioned Emma's little lyrical mishap, and she was actually pretty happy about that.

But Astrid Nova seemed pleased that the Lost Girls had lost their status as Takeover virgins, and she stopped calling Emma out over it every chance she got. So that was nice.

The best part, though, was the way everyone finally realized that a Takeover didn't have to mean the end. Of the bands involved in the next two Takeovers—King of Hearts and Madhouse; Emma wasn't very familiar with either one of them, but she'd heard King of Hearts enough to know they were just a cheap Heartless knockoff—both kept playing their sets once the Regals were gone, and kept a solid half the crowd.

It made Emma wonder what War Council's problem was, actually. She knew that Róisín was super passive aggressive and that, left to her own devices, she'd almost always back down from an actual confrontation just so she could throw shade like a palm tree at a later time. But she also knew that as long as Róisín felt safe, if she had the appropriate back up, she would push for confrontation, just because she could. And Emma couldn't think of two people more willing to fight than Philomena and Ursula. Philomena was like a rabid dog, and Ursula loved nothing more than to set her loose on people. War Council should have been the first to take action against the Takeovers, and yet for some reason, they were the most submissive of them all. They left the stage, every single time.

"Maybe she's planning something," Tina suggested one night, while she and Emma were out at the Rabbit Hole, waiting for Ruby's shift to end because they had been joined by Neal and Robin early in the night and now they were all in serious need of a ride home. There was a pyramid of empty shot glasses in the middle of their table that Emma was truly amazed they hadn't knocked over by now.

"Róisín isn't that bad," Robin mumbled into his beer. He was starting to have a hard time keeping his head up, and Emma and Tina had a little bet going on how long it would take him to fall out of his chair. "I think she's pretty awesome, actually."

"You're only saying that because you're a guy." She reached over and gave his shoulder a gentle shove, giggling when he overbalanced into Neal.

"Aw, come on Ems," Neal drawled drunkenly. "Robin isn't like that. He's, like, respectful of women or something."

Emma thought about all the YouTube videos she'd seen of him undressing the Mills women with his eyes, and started giggling. Once she'd started, she couldn't stop.

Tina started poking her as she said, "She didn't mean it like _that,_ silly. She meant it's literally because you're a guy. You don't see that thing, that thing she does where she, like, is real nice and stuff, but means the exact opposite."

"Yeah, that," Emma giggled, poking Tina back. "She does that, basically, _all_ the time."

"Who does what?" Robin lifted his head, confused.

"You're so drunk, dude," Neal laughed.

"What were we talking about?" Robin asked again.

"Róisín," Tina stage whispered.

"Yeah!" Emma agreed. "And how she's a bitch. Like…the other one."

"The other one?" Neal perked up. "What other one?"

"No, Róisín is _here!"_ Tina waved her pointer finger over toward the bar. "Look!"

Sure enough, the brunette was standing at the bar with two other women, _not_ her band mates, decked out in some weird blue dress…robe…thing. Emma blinked. _"Is that a snuggie?"_

The whole table erupted into laughter.

"You should go talk to her!" Emma choked on her beer, barely saving herself from spitting it all over the table. Robin shook his head, swinging it around like it suddenly weighed more, and tried to explain. "You just need to get to know her, that's all. She's cool. Just talk to her."

"Yeah!" Tina agreed enthusiastically, and Emma stared at her, wondering if the sudden exuberance was the alcohol, or if that was just Tina. Either option was equally plausible, and Tina drunk was basically the same as Tina sober, just with less hand-eye coordination. "You should go talk to her, Emma!"

Emma scowled at her. "I thought you were on my side!"

"I am, I just want you to bring me another beer." Tina shrugged.

Neal grabbed his beer and chugged the rest of it. He slammed it down again once it was empty. "Yeah Emma! Bring us beer!"

"You guys can't be serious right now."

Robin chugged the rest of his drink too. "Bring me a beer, woman!"

She pointed a narrow finger at him. "I knew you were a Neanderthal! I saw you on YouTube!"

"Huh?"

"You know what I mean!" She waggled the finger for emphasis, which just made Robin look more confused.

"Are we not getting more beer then?" Neal asked.

"I'll get your beer, Jesus," Emma muttered. "I'm not making friends with Róisín though." Then she grabbed Tina's wrist and jerked her up. "You're coming with me."

Tina stumbled a little as Emma jerked her toward the bar, having to run a little to keep up with her taller friend. She fell into step with Emma and said, "I was kidding about Róisín, you know."

Emma smiled at her reassuringly. "I know, Tink. I'm not going to talk to her."

"Good," Tina nodded in satisfaction. "Because Róisín makes every conversation about the Takeovers these days."

"I'd heard," Emma murmured. The jerked her head toward the small crowd that had formed around Róisín and her two friends. "Wanna bet she's doing it now?"

"Not taking that bet," Tina rolled her eyes. They made it to the bar, slipping in a few feet away from Róisín's group.

Ruby came over and eyed them. "You know I'm cutting you guys off after this, right?"

Emma nodded. "That's cool. We were hoping we could ride home with you tonight."

"Uh, duh." Ruby flipped four new glasses up onto the bar and started filling them. She jerked her head over to indicate Róisín. "She's one tiny little ball of bitterness tonight."

"We were _just_ discussing that," Emma laughed.

"Robin thinks she's _nice,"_ Tina added.

"Robin's a guy."

Emma and Tina both laughed. "We said that too."

"Have you heard any of the shit she's been saying?"

They all paused, tuning into the conversation down the bar. The music was too loud to hear much of it, but Emma did manage to catch the middle of an impassioned statement. "—dding with these takeover performances anyway? They just—" Emma lost the rest of the sentence under the beginning of a new song.

"Ursula and Mena came into the store the other day," Tina said. "They were…colorful."

"You mean Mena was threatening anyone and everyone within earshot," Emma translated. "And Ursula was smiling and nodding. Or, smirking, really."

"Yeah, basically."

All three of them turned their attention to Róisín at the other end of the bar. The brunette seemed to sense them looking, and leaned around to stare back. Her lips turned up, and Emma sighed.

"Great, she's seen us. If I were gonna pass out, now would be the best time."

Róisín's crowd parted so she could come stand with them. She looked them up and down, one by one, and Emma suddenly felt much, much more sober.

"If she says something cliche," Emma muttered from the corner of her mouth.

Tink giggled, and mocked, "Well, well, well, if it isn't the Lost Girls…"

Róisín narrowed her eyes, unamused. Coolly, she said, "Well, girls, I _was_ just going to offer my congratulations for surviving your first Takeover." She shrugged her shoulders.

Emma made sure she exaggerated her eye roll so Róisín saw it. "The woman came in and played the guitar for five minutes. It wasn't much of a Takeover."

Róisín's lips tightened. "Yes, well, you held on to your crowd admirably."

"All we did was plug back in," Ruby said blandly.

"All I _mean,"_ Róisín gritted through her clenched jaw. "Is that what you did just went a long way to prove what I've been saying all along."

"That the Evil Regals are washed up and can't sustain the energy for a full set so they're just undermining those of us who can?" Tina's eyes were wide, her voice dripping innocence, and Emma had to suppress a snicker. If she had to guess, she'd say that was almost an exact parrot of whatever Tina had heard Ursula and Mena saying the other day.

"Yes, well," Róisín coughed. "I'm just saying it's very telling that they haven't done more than perform one song at a time since they returned."

Emma shook her head. She'd had enough. Shaking off Tina's hand, which had migrated to her shoulder as she felt Emma tense behind her. She turned her body fully toward the other woman, and took a step forward. "You know, you are sure talking a lot of shit for someone that can't even finish a show after a Regal Takeover."

There was a low murmur through the small group that had been hanging on to Róisín's words earlier. Emma pressed on, alcohol making her tongue loose. "Just because you don't have the balls to finish a set after the Regals show up doesn't mean the rest of us don't."

"Emma…" Ruby murmured.

Emma waved her off too. "I know you're pissed about the Takeovers and you have every right to be, but honestly at this point it's not even just the band anymore. They keep getting hired to crash our shows, don't they?" She took a pull of her beer; she was shaking a little now. "They only crash you so much because they know you'll roll every fucking time. You should just keep playing."

"It's kind of fun!" Tina chimed in brightly. "It was a very different energy after they left."

"You almost sound like you _approve_ of what they're doing."

"I think they're assholes," Emma said bluntly. "But I respect their balls. And frankly, shitty reactions to what they're doing just tells me you aren't creative enough to respond at all. At least they're shaking things up, pissing people off. What are you doing? Stop running away. Hell, even letting Mena off her leash would be better than that at this point."

"Emma."

Emma looked over to see that Robin and Neal had come over and were hovering by Tina. Tina was chewing her lip, looking interested in the confrontation, but worried that it was going to turn into more than words.

Emma shrugged. "Whatever. You guys do you. I don't care. We're just going to keep, you know, playing music. Since we're a band and all."

She let Neal take her by the arm and lead her away. Behind her she heard Tina telling Ruby that she and the guys would make sure that Emma stayed by Ruby's car until her shift was over.

Outside the bar, breathing in the warm night air, Emma's stomach suddenly rolled, as both the alcohol and the adrenaline crash hit her at the same time. She fought the bile rising in her throat, and grabbed Tina's shoulders.

"Tink," she muttered urgently. "Tink, I have an idea. I have _the._ _Best. Idea."_

And _that_ was when she finally passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used in this chapter:  
> Rid of Me, by PJ Harvey


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Lost Girls fight back, and Emma finally makes a connection.

She had to admit one thing for sure: the looming and ever present threat of an Evil Regal Takeover had created some amazing tension within her Lost Girls. And while some of their peers were handling the potential of a crash by melting down, ever since their first Takeover, Emma and the Lost Girls were handling it like champs, using the knife edge of fear that had infiltrated their sets now to amp up their energy and crowd interaction.

They’d only had one other Takeover since then, and the opposing band had made sure to stay well away from the Lost Girls. They’d positioned the whole band across the room from them; they’d had to bring out a second drum kit and everything. It was clever, and Emma had made sure to give the Queen a little bow of respect when, as the Evil Regals began playing, Emma’s whole audience had had to turn and face away from the Lost Girls to focus on the Takeover.

Afterward, by the time Belle had them plugged in again and the Regals were gone, Emma had changed their set list so that the next song they played had been as musically close to the one the Regals had played, so the crowd just rode the Takeover high right into the Lost Girls finishing their set.

Emma tried to harness the feeling of that show as she sneered into the sea of black that she knew hid her audience as she allowed the last few notes of her song to growl out between her teeth, and knocked her microphone stand over. She used the momentum of her hand to spin around to face her band. The set list was taped to the floor next to Ruby’s amp; Emma swaggered over to it and leaned down to remind herself what their next song was.

Before she even read the title, the lights went out. It had happened enough now that everyone knew immediately what was happening, and the crowd went fucking nuts. Behind her, Emma heard Ruby groan.

"Motherfucker!" she growled out. Emma only grinned. She was ready for this. She was _so_ ready for this.

It was time to put her plan into action.

“Belle, get us plugged in again. Then huddle up, Lost Girls,” she called. The Regals started with Gold on his violin, repeating the same few notes on a loop, and even though this part was for a guitar, Emma immediately recognized it from the Bandit’s list. She also realized that they were stretching out this part a little, giving the rest of the band time to settle in, and the crowd time to anticipate where the Regals would appear.

Soon enough they'd be getting spotlights, but Emma had seen the Regals make their appearance enough times now that as long as she kept her eyes averted, she wouldn't get caught up in the spectacle anymore.

Another thing she had to admit: the Evil Regals knew how to put on a show. Their stage performances were theatrical in the best ways, and Emma had been paying attention. She'd been planning for just this moment.

She and Ruby and Belle came to stand with Tink at the drums. The Girls looked at her with confusion painted on their faces. But there was trust there too; they might have been pretty new on the scene, a baby group compared to some of the others, but they knew each other. They worked well together. They trusted one another. Emma knew that she didn't have time to explain, but that it wouldn't matter. The Girls would follow her lead.

"Pay attention," she told them tensely. "Keep on your toes. Listen to the song, we've got one verse to figure out what they're doing and then we're gonna up the ante, girls."

"What are we doing?" Belle asked her, curious but not worried. She started to strum the strings of her bass idly, but stopped as soon as she remembered that she’d plugged them back in already.

The Evil Regals’ music swelled and Emma could feel spotlights behind her; she knew they were appearing now. Her eyes drifted to Ruby. "Where is she?"

"The Queen?" Ruby voiced it as a question but they all knew it wasn't. Emma nodded tensely, and Ruby responded immediately, "When you turn around she'll be at ten o'clock. _Damn_ she is a hot mess!”

Emma resisted the urge to turn around and look. She couldn’t afford to get distracted, and if there was one thing the Queen was good at, it was throwing her adversaries off their center of gravity. Emma needed to be in the zone, for lack of a better word, before she could allow herself to confront the other woman.

_“And the sky was made of amethyst_  
_And all the stars look just like little fish_  
_You should learn when to go_  
_You should learn how to say no”_

Emma closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the Queen's voice as it practically moaned out over the crowd. She couldn't help but wince; the Queen always sounded like she was in pain. She wasn't entirely sure how she did it. Her speaking voice, the one time Emma had heard it, wasn’t anything like this.

Cracking an eye open, Emma looked at her Girls. She saw they were all in similar states of concentration. They didn't know why they were listening as hard as they were, memorizing what the Regals were doing in such a short amount of time, but Emma had told them to do it and so, they were doing it. Emma nodded in approval.

_“Might last a day, yeah_  
_Mine is forever_  
_Might last a day, yeah_  
_Mine is forever”_

Emma had heard enough by this point. She opened her eyes and said briskly, "Everyone got it? Know the patterns?" There were nods all around. So, with a smirk, Emma said to them, "We’re going to overpower them. Harder, faster. Get the crowd jumping. On my signal, we're going to start playing, Girls."

There was a moment of silence as she waited for the others to catch up. Almost at the same moment, she watched as realization dawned on each of their faces. Ruby's red lips stretched into a widest grin she could manage. "Amazing, Emma. Let's give them hell!"

"What are we playing?"

Emma felt her lips twist into something she thought was probably approaching downright evil. “Say Fuck It.” They’d covered the Icona Pop song with the more vulgar Buckcherry version, and though the video went online, it obviously couldn’t be played on air. So the station didn’t have any problem with them playing it before it went live; Emma had been saving this song for exactly this occasion. She pointed at Ruby. “Still at ten o’clock?”

“Ten sharp,” Ruby confirmed.

_“When they get what they want,_  
_They never want it again”_

Emma whirled and approached the edge of the stage. She found the Queen staring at her already; she’d been watching their huddle with curiosity. Emma sneered at her, and felt no small amount of satisfaction when the Queen’s eyes widened in surprise. She let the Regals play their song a little longer, then twirled her hand in the air, trusting that her band was watching.

Right on cue, Tink and Ruby started them off, banging away on drums and guitar alike. Belle had done her job quickly and efficiently and gotten their instruments live again, so the sound of them playing caused every eye in the house to whip back to the stage in shock and awe. The Queen never missed a note but the size of her eyes now was comical. Emma gave her a mock curtsy, then raised the microphone as she jumped up and down before belting out the lyrics.

_“I got this feeling on the summer day when you were gone_  
_I crashed my car into the bridge, I watched,_  
_I let it burn”_

Emma was aware enough of her crowd to know that their collective minds were being blown now. No one had ever attempted this sort of thing before; no one ever fought back against the Regals. Their crashes ended in the other band giving it up, maybe sullenly letting them play their one song before continuing halfheartedly on with their own sets. Just as often, especially when the band being crashed was War Council, the Takeover ended with the original band walking off stage. But no one had ever even thought of challenging them back. Emma issued her challenge with confidence, staring right into the Queen’s eyes as she sang,

_“I threw your shit into a bag and pushed it down the stairs,_  
_I crashed my car into the bridge_  
_I don’t care_  
_Say fuck it_  
_I DON’T CARE!”_

The Queen’s entire visage went dark as Emma shouted the last words at her. She walked closer, the crowd parting before her as they usually did, and she raised her voice as she continued with her own lyrics,

_“Go on, take everything,_  
_Take everything, I want you to_  
_Go on, take everything_  
_Take everything, I want you to”_

Emma loved the way the Queen’s voice got hoarse and scratchy when she was really belting the lyrics out, and there was no holding back now. Their songs didn’t mesh well at all, but the Queen was rising to Emma’s challenge anyway. What Emma brought to the match in mischief and cockiness, the Queen made up for in raw anger.

_“You’re on a different road,_  
_I’m in the Milky Way_  
_You want me down on earth_  
_But I am up in space!”_

She hopped off the stage and stepped into the crowd too. There was an audible gasp at her audacity. Emma was crossing all sorts of unspoken lines now. Lines that everyone had assumed were uncrossable. They let her pass, and she positively stalked toward the Queen. The Queen reeled back a little, surprised at Emma’s boldness, but didn’t let it last long. She stalked forward too, and they met in the middle, chest to chest, and circled around one another.

 _“You’re so damn hard to please,”_ Emma snarled into the other woman’s face.

_“We gotta kill this switch_  
_I’m from the 70’s_  
_And you’re a CRAZY BITCH!”_

She watched the Queen’s lips tighten; Emma was throwing her off her game, she could tell. The song the Regals had prepared for this wasn’t an appropriate fight song, and the Queen knew it well. She hadn’t anticipated a challenger to step foot onto the field, so her fight songs had all been played out in the beginning, when their resurgence was still new enough that they expected resistance.

Still. It seemed she had a good comeback line to at least attempt.

_“I told you from the start_  
_Just how this would end_  
_When I get what I want_  
_Then I never want it again”_

Emma’s lips stretched wide in a smile at that; she knew the Queen was warning her, reminding her of the one and only conversation they’d had in the manager’s office at the Pride Lands. She was singing lyrics out of order now, to meet Emma’s challenge, and the slight jump in Gold’s violin and the brief falter of Malady’s drums told her they were having to think hard to keep up.

Emma rolled her eyes and leaned in close to the Queen’s face, skipping the end of the song so she could go back to the beginning and repeat,

_“I got this feeling on the summer day when you were gone_  
_I crashed my car into the bridge, I watched,_  
_I let it burn_  
_I threw your shit into a bag and pushed it down the stairs,_  
_I crashed my car into the bridge_  
_I don’t care”_

Her band kept up with her out of order singing almost seamlessly; they were in battle mode, they were expecting Emma to do stuff like this. She’d told them to keep on their toes and they were doing so _amazingly_. Emma had never loved her band more than she did at this moment.

The Queen stepped in close. Emma had to give it her; her song wasn’t the best fit to fight with the Lost Girls but she and the Regals gave as good as Emma was giving. The backing vocals got fiercer, the violin a little quicker and sharper, and the Queen’s lyrics, though ill fitting, were snarled fiercely.

_“And the sky was all violet_  
_I wanna give the violet more violence_  
_I’m the one with no soul_  
_One above and one below”_

The crowd around them pressed in close. Emma felt the heat of them against her back but her entire focus was on the Queen before her. They were so close that Emma could feel the other woman’s chest heaving, and see the rage in her eyes. She knew she had been beaten this round, but she was going to go down snarling and spitting. Emma circled her, let her band pick up the pace and overpower the sound of the violin. She leaned in and repeated,

_"You're on a different road, I'm in the Milky Way_  
_You want me down on earth, but I am up in space_  
_You're so damn hard to please, we gotta kill this switch_  
_I'm from the 70's, and you're a crazy bitch"_

She didn’t shout the insult into the Queen’s face this time. No need to add insult to injury. The Queen’s eyes were resigned as she limited herself to the end of her song.

_“Go on, take everything_  
_Take everything, I want you to_  
_Go on, take everything_  
_Take everything, I want you to_  
_Go on, take everything,_  
_Take everything, I dare you to”_

Emma dipped her lanky body into another curtsy, and the Queen inclined her head as she stepped backward toward the rest of her band. She never once turned her back on Emma. Her backwards movements were graceful and poised, but the Lost Girls recognized it for the retreat it was. And while there was definitely rage on the Queen’s face—and oh boy, Emma thought giddily, was she enraged!—there was also a grudging respect there as well.

Emma pumped her fist in the air, turning her back on the Regals as she marched back to her stage. Once there she leapt up, and went to stand right in the middle of her band, cushioned between Belle and Ruby, in front of Tink. They were all playing their hearts out, looking elated. They knew they'd won this as well. Emma jumped, and knew that the crowd was jumping with her, as she yelled the last lyrics, finally drowning the Evil Regals out completely.

_"I don't care, say fuck it!_  
_I don't care, say fuck it!_  
_I don't care, say fuck it!_  
_I don't care, say fuck it!_

_I don't care, SAY FUCK IT!"_

* * *

 

The Lost Girls spilled into the parking lot giddily. Ruby and Belle were clinging to one another, matching smiles splitting their face. Tina was thrumming with excitement, her small frame darting between Emma and Belle and back again and then over to Ruby and then she whirled around with her arms open before finally throwing herself into the opened hatchback of Belle’s car. She curled into herself and kicked her feet, laughing.

Emma herself was calm. She leaned against a light post, watching her band celebrate with her arms crossed over her chest. She knew she looked smug, but she thought she’d earned it.

“That was _amazing!”_ Ruby finally shouted. She grabbed Emma by the wrists and pulled her into a tight bear hug. Emma felt the breath whoosh from her lungs as Tina’s small body slammed into her back, her arm stretching to wrap around both her and Ruby. Belle hung back for a moment before she joined in too, although not with nearly as much force. For a moment they just stood there, Emma squeezed in the middle of this ridiculous group bonding time, before suddenly all four of them were giggling helplessly.

"I can't believe we just did that," Belle gasped when she'd gained a modicum of control over herself again and they’d let go of one another.

"That was incredible," Tina agreed. "Did you see the looks on their faces?" She clapped her hands in giddy excitement. "I thought Zelena was going to explode. She was as red as her hair!"

"We totally rattled them," Ruby agreed. "The crowd probably missed it but did you hear the violin stutter a couple of times?"

“Yeah, they weren’t expecting the Queen to skip around in the lyrics,” Emma confirmed. “God, you should have seen her eyes. I think she wanted to set me on fire.”

“We did good,” Belle admitted; of them all, she was quickest to regain her normal cool. Even then, though, her smile was no less fierce than the rest of them. “Guys. We just battled the Evil Regals.”

“We did more than that,” Emma insisted. “We battled the Evil Regals. And we _won.”_

They all paused to savor that for a moment. Then, at once, they burst into laughter again.

“I didn’t even know we could play like that,” Tina admitted once they had all caught their breaths once more. “I think that was our best set ever.”

“No doubt about it,” Belle agreed. “The energy from the crowd was absolutely amazing.”

Ruby’s face darkened a little. “Too bad it came from the Regals and not us.”

Belle and Tina scowled a little too, troubled. But Emma just shrugged. “I don’t think it matters who started it. We kept it up. That’s not nothing, you guys.” The other girls relaxed a little, considering that. Emma extricated herself from the group huddle that their group hug had turned into. “Anyway, we definitely deserve a reward. So let’s get packed up, and then we go fucking _party._ We’ve earned it!”

* * *

 

Ruby took them to the Rabbit Hole, and to their surprise, a cheer rose up when the four of them walked into the bar. They all froze, looking around in stupefied confusion.

“What the _hell?”_ Ruby whispered.

Killian burst out of the crowd by the door and threw his arms wide. “Lost Girls! The band of the hour is finally here!”

“What the fuck is going on?” Emma blurted loudly, and several people around her laughed. Killian hooked an arm around her neck, and the other across Tina’s shoulders and led them, Belle and Ruby trailing behind, to the bar. Beers were immediately poured for them, and Emma took hers without really looking. “Seriously, what is happening here?”

Neal came over with August, shouldering through people who were still watching the Lost Girls, murmuring to themselves. The more Emma looked around the bar, the more confused she got. Neal shoved his phone at her, grinning. “You guys are awesome!”

The girls all clustered around her as she lifted the phone to look. She pressed the play arrow in the middle of the screen, and almost immediately a grainy camera phone video of the performance they’d just left came up. The tinny opening notes of Violet filtered to Emma’s ears, and she looked up gaping.

“Are you kidding right now?” she demanded. “This is already on YouTube?”

“Um, _yeah,”_ August laughed. “That took serious guts!”

The other girls were grinning and laughing now, but Emma continued to shake her head in amazement. She knew what they’d done was going to be a big deal, she just wasn’t counting on it happening this fast.

Killian raised his glass. “To Emma and the Lost Girls!”

Emma lost track of how many times she recounted what it was like to perform against the Evil Regals. Or how many drinks got thrust at her. This wasn’t quite the partying she’d meant, but she couldn’t deny she was loving every second of it. They all were.

“You should have seen her _face!”_ Emma heard Ruby laughing. “It—oh, shit! Look!” Ruby’s face was flushed as she laughed, pointing her finger at something at the other end of the bar.

Emma followed her finger, and found that someone had the video up on the TV. It was still grainy and shaky but Emma watched herself circling around the Queen. It hardly looked like her up there, honestly. That Emma was so…vibrant. Alive. The Queen’s eyes locked on and followed her every movement, and this was perhaps the most interesting part of all. Even though she’d been inches away from the other woman, she’d been so immersed in the music, the intensity of the challenge, that the actual details were beginning to blur in her mind. She remembered the anger in the Queen’s gaze, the way her eyes—

“Holy shit.”

“Emma, luv?” Killian waved a hand in front of her shell shocked face. “You alright?”

“I have to go!”

Killian grabbed her arm. “You shouldn’t be driving.”

“I won’t be!” Emma wrenched her arm away. “My place isn’t that far, I’ll walk, see you later!”

She ran all the way back to her apartment. By the time she thundered up the stairs she was gasping for breath. The photo album was still sitting in the nightstand by her bed. She’d completely forgotten about returning it to the radio station after she’d found it, and it had been sitting in her bedroom ever since. She pulled it out, and opened it to the first page.

“Holy shit.”

It was the Queen. The happy, smiling, new mother in these photos was Regina Mills.

“Holy. _Shit._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used in this chapter:  
> Violet, by Hole  
> Say Fuck It, by Buckcherry


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Lost Girls make a discovery, and Emma makes a friend...maybe?

_A Challenger Appears!_   
_Astrid Nova_

_In the weeks since the Evil Regals’ very first surprise reappearance during another band’s show, they’ve literally steamrolled their way back to the top of the music scene in our previously sleepy little town. They’ve been plowing their way through the Bandit’s covers list, and teasing us with glimpses of their intense, darker new sound. It seemed like the only thing to do was try to get out of the way or be run over._

_Last night’s Takeover of the Lost Girls show at the Flying Monkey marks the first time a band has planted their feet and fought back._

_This time I was actually in the crowd for the performance, and if you missed it, let me tell you that the videos don’t do it justice. No strangers now to the Takeover phenomena, even those of us who weren’t there waiting for the Evil Regals to show up knew what was happening when the lights went out. Waiting for the band’s dramatic appearance now is half the fun, and I’ll admit that I was so caught up in the search myself that I almost missed the Lost Girls’ reaction to the ambush. Every band reacts in their own ways, and in their previous two Takeovers, the Lost Girls have simply plugged back in and finished their set as soon as the Evil Regals have disappeared again. They’ve even cheered the Regals out themselves. Last night, though, their behavior was completely different from start to finish. As soon as the lights went out, lead singer Emma Swan huddled her Girls up for a conference._

_The Evil Regals came out together in confidence, setting up opposite from the Lost Girls, so the audience had to turn their backs to the original band in order to take in the new performance. They played a song from our list, Hole’s Violet, and right from the beginning they made it their own by replacing the guitar with Gold’s violin. The Queen’s voice was a painful wince as she began the lyrics. She worked her crowd—me included—expertly, but almost as an afterthought. Her eyes, even as she moaned her lyrics, were locked on the Lost Girls huddle up on the main staging area. And when they turned their attention back to the Takeover, there was a moment when both lead singers locked gazes._

_Unstoppable force, meet immovable object._

_No one was prepared for the clash of drums and guitar as Tina Barrie and Ruby Lucas joined the Evil Regals in playing. Every head in the room snapped back to the Lost Girls, even as the Regals continued on without missing a beat. The Lost Girls had used their time well, listening to the sound of their opposition so when they joined in, their own instruments seemed to compliment, in a truly bizarre way, what the Evil Regals were already playing. Emma dipped into what I can only call a sarcastic curtsy as she grabbed the mic to sing._

_Where the Evil Regals were mournful and defiant, the Lost Girls were playful and challenging. They met the cover song with one of their own, taking on Buckcherry’s more vulgar version of the Icona Pop hit I Don’t Care, and it threw the perfect amount of sass into the Queen’s face. The shouted “I don’t care” brought the Queen closer to the stage; her lyrics to the unexpected challenge were ill fitting but the Evil Regals played all the harder to sell it._

_Queen and Lost Girl met in the middle of the crowd, chest to chest, in an explosion of unexpected and potent chemistry. They circled one another like caged animals, the music backing them up flowing almost flawlessly. The hitches in tempo were apparent only to trained ears as both bands leapt around in lyrics to rise to the challenge._

_With the crowd going wild around them, the second curtsy Emma afforded the Queen seemed less sarcastic and more respectful. The Queen accepted the gesture with a regal incline of her head, before stepping back to her band._

_This time, as the Evil Regals faded out their music and vanished, the Lost Girls carried the crowd with them to the end of their song, and slid smoothly back into their own set. They finished even more boldly than they began, bolstered by the excited frenzy the unscheduled mashup had created. Last night, the Lost Girls truly raised the bar for both the Regal Takeovers and the way in which they are dealt with. It was the kind of performance that I, for one, consider myself lucky to have seen, and will remember for years to come._

_And I think I speak for all of us when I say that I’ll be watching the Lost Girls a little more closely from now on._

* * *

Emma tapped her foot against the center pedestal of her table. The blunt metal studs on the toe of her boots made little clicking sounds against the metal of the post, and she entertained herself by trying to tap out songs as she waited. She knew she was being kind of twitchy, and people were watching her; the way she kept craning her neck back to the coffee bar to watch, the ratty backpack she kept touching just to make sure it was still with her, the incessant tapping of her feet, the way she rifled through magazines almost constantly but without really looking at them all made her look like a tweaker, and she knew it, but she really couldn’t help it. She’d been up most of the night, flipping through the photo album. It was at least a thousand times more interesting to her now that she knew who the people in the pictures were.

At first she couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it right away. Now that she knew, she felt like an idiot. The pictures in that book weren’t just of the Queen and her kid, they were of the whole friggin’ band, and Emma hadn’t seen that. They’d been scrutinizing the Evil Regals for _weeks_ now, and yet somehow she’d managed to miss that she’d seen every single one of them before. She’d flipped through the book a hundred times last night, barely sleeping at all, just studying the faces.

All the articles and blog posts she’d ever read about the Evil Regals were clear on the fact that the Queen and her bassist, Zelena, were sisters. Emma hadn’t really been able to see that, because they looked nothing alike, and the way they interacted with one another on stage wasn’t any different than the way Emma interacted with her band. But looking at the photos, it made sense. There was one picture in particular that Emma hadn’t been able to take her eyes off of. In it, the two women were seated on Regina’s hospital bed with the new baby between them. Zelena had her hand resting on Regina’s back, and their heads were bent together so they could both make faces at the kid. It was such an easy moment between them; there, Emma could see a family bond for sure.

Emma touched her backpack again, and glanced around the cafe furtively. She was tucked into the back corner, so she could see the entire floor of the store, both cafe and bookstore, and there was no one sitting close to her. Probably because she looked like a goddamn shoplifter, she decided ruefully as she unzipped the back pocket. The photo album was still there. She took one last look around—an older woman nursing a tea and a Home and Garden magazine glared at her suspiciously from across the room—and pulled it out carefully. She draped her bag on the front of the table so the book was not easily visible, and cracked it open once more.

In the middle of the book, the kid seemed to be about four or five. His face was round and chunky, he had brown hair several shades lighter than his mother’s deep black, and it flopped into his eyes even though every other picture or so it was clear that someone had made the attempt to style it back off his face. This far into the book, the sandy haired man that Emma assumed was daddy was long gone from the pictures, so the family Regina’s Little Prince was surrounded by was Regina and her band. The pages Emma had turned to were Fourth of July picnic celebrations, and the whole group was in some green park on a blanket.

It was kind of funny, actually. There were other families in the backgrounds of these pictures, and they were all doing the typical all American celebration, the men in star spangled button downs and khaki shorts, the women in high water jeans and white canvas low tops. Regina and the other Evil Regals stood out in their grunge goth casual wear, ripped up fishnets and Gold’s too formal for the park waistcoat and tie. But the kid was running around in little blue shorts and a red polo, his smile bright as he hopped from lap to lap.

She tapped one picture with her fingertip, one with the kid sprawled across the laps of all three women, and all four of them had headbands with light up stars on springs nestled on their heads. They were all poking his chubby, little kid belly and he was captured mid-laugh, and all four of them looked just…happy.

Overwhelmed again, Emma shut the book and put it back into her bag. She pulled it close and lay her head down on it, unable to really put her finger on why she was so jittery, just knowing that she was, and that the people in these pictures were worlds different than the people she’d been performing against. Maybe it was all an act, a show for the stage, but Emma couldn’t help but remember the woman she’d met sitting in the dark, and wonder.

“Emma, hey!”

Emma jerked her head up at the sound of Belle’s voice. The other woman was still in her apron when she sat down across from Emma at the table. She slid a small coffee cup over, and Emma grinned when she sipped the hot chocolate. “Thanks, Belle.”

“You looked like you could use it,” Belle explained easily. “What’s up? You left the Rabbit Hole pretty early last night.”

“Uh, yeah,” Emma shrugged. “I guess I wasn’t as up for partying as I thought. Listen, I have a question. That thing we talked about, that day at the record store? With the Facebook thing? Did you ever follow up on that?”

Belle frowned. “Yeah, of course. Actually I was going to talk to you about it this week. I think they really do put out these clues so people can find where the next Takeover is going to be.”

“Good,” Emma nodded. “Great, actually. Band meeting at my place tomorrow, okay? We’re going to do some recon.”

Belle laughed. “You’re such a dork, Emma. I’m meeting Ruby tonight for dinner, I’ll let her know if you tell Tink.” She patted Emma’s hand with a little laugh, and went back to work. She tossed Emma a smile over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

* * *

“What’s this all about, Emma?”

Emma peeked over her open refrigerator at the front door. Tina had just come in out of the rain, and was now shaking out her jacket. There was a little puddle forming on the floor.

“Seriously?” she muttered, sticking her head back into the fridge so she didn’t have to watch. Were her friends raised in a barn? Ruby had done the same thing when she came in, too. Emma was pretty sure she still had Mary Margaret’s cleaning shit in a closet somewhere, and hopefully there was a mop in there. She had half a mind to do it with Tink’s stupid jacket. Before she could say anything like that out loud, though, she took a breath and answered the question. “Let’s wait till Belle gets here.”

Tina flung her wet jacket on the floor. Emma sighed, and shook her head. She just had to let it go. Her friends were idiots, and she had to accept that about them. She grabbed some sodas and bumped the fridge shut with her hip, offering one to Tina. She grabbed it from Emma’s outstretched hand, then flopped herself down onto Emma’s sofa. She landed half on top of Ruby, who groaned as her breath whooshed from her lungs. Tina glared, and then held her drink can over Ruby’s bare legs while she popped the tab. It fizzed over the top and drizzled down Ruby’s skin.

“Goddammit!” Ruby jumped up and away from the drummer. “What the hell is your damage, Tink?”

“Don’t call me that!” Tina singsonged as Ruby stomped into the kitchen to wash herself off. She could fight them or she could join them, Emma thought as she leaned over the arm of the couch to slap Tina’s palm. If nothing else, at least they were amusing.

“Fuck you too, Emma!” Ruby called through the door when she heard Emma snickering.

“Why are we fucking Emma?” Belle asked as she slipped in from the hall. She shook out her open umbrella. Emma just slapped her hands over her face and groaned. Tina pointed her finger at her, cackling in delight at her exasperation.

Ruby came out of the kitchen just in time to see Belle struggling to close the umbrella. “You guys are fucking rude,” she proclaimed bluntly, striding over to take the umbrella to help, so Belle could pull off her overcoat. Ruby finally wrestled the umbrella into submission while Belle hung up her coat. She had her laptop bag slung across her chest, and she pulled it over her head.

“So what’s up with the emergency band meeting?” Ruby questioned as Belle settled herself on the floor in front of the coffee table to set up her computer.

“I’ve been reading.”

“ _There’s_ a shocker,” Tina muttered playfully, flinching away when Ruby reached over to lightly smack her leg.

Belle stuck her tongue out at their drummer. But she continued her thread of conversation as though she hadn’t been interrupted. “No, I was thinking about the Regal Takeovers.”

Ruby groaned and laid her head back over the arm of the sofa dramatically. “God, can we not? Like, for real, all I want is one fucking day where someone isn’t talking about those assholes.” She threw her hands up in the air aimlessly. “We _just_ got Emma to stop ranting about what a bitch the Queen is at the drop of a hat!”

“Hey!” Emma protested. “I never did that!”

“You did that _all. The. Time._ ” Ruby insisted, and Tina nodded vigorously in agreement. Ruby pitched her voice high in mockery. “She’s so mean, she said mean things to me, wah wah wah!”

“I don’t sound like that!” Emma yelled. “And she _is_ a bitch but that’s not the point!”

“Hey, um, guys?” Belle waved her hand between their standoff, luring their attention back to her. “Before we get completely sidetracked by Emma’s weird hate crush,” she snickered and ducked behind her screen to avoid the balled up set list Emma fished off the floor and threw at her head. “I want to show you what I’ve found.”

Ruby stuck her tongue out at Emma, and Emma flipped her off, even as she went to sit next to her so she could see the screen too. Belle was already on the Tracking the Takeovers Facebook page.

“Dead end,” Ruby said immediately. “This is just a bunch of fans creaming their pants over the comeback.” Emma smirked when Ruby crossed her arms smugly; it was on the tip of her tongue to remind them all of Ruby’s reaction to the first Takeover herself.

“Yeah,” Tina agreed. “We’ve all done our own stalking, and I have to agree with Ruby.”

Belle smiled, and clicked on the name Sydney Glass. From his profile, she linked over to his website, then asked, “Don’t you think it’s weird how whenever a Takeover happens now, people don’t even seem surprised anymore?”

Tina leaned forward to look at this Sydney guy’s website. She whistled, long and low. “Ho-lee _shit_ ,” she muttered. “This guy is obsessed.”

It was an Evil Regal fanpage that actually reminded Emma of the good old days of Geocities, but with a glossier finish. Every inch of the site was plastered with pictures of the band, from both before and after their disappearance. An old Evil Regals song came blasting on as soon as the site was fully loaded. Belle quickly found the player and silenced it, but not before they all had time to hear the Queen croon the first few lines.

Tina shook her head. “Even her voice sounds different. If you didn’t know it was the same person…”

Ruby nodded. “No kidding.”

Belle smiled tightly, and clicked on one of the video links in the sidebar. She selected one and hit play, and pretty soon a clip of an old show started playing. It was a video Emma had seen before, when they’d first started studying how the Regals performed. Some crazy YouTuber called evilregal5ever283 had basically every Evil Regal show from the beginning of time uploaded. Emma had just skimmed the old videos before, more interested in the new Takeover stuff, but after she made the connection with the photo album, she’d come right back here and watched just about every video there was. Belle paused the video, at just the right moment to catch the Queen mid-smile.

“I didn’t even know her mouth could do that,” Tina said.

Emma thought about the photo album in her bedroom, and the brilliant smiles inside. Not just smiles, but moments of unfiltered joy, laughter frozen as surely as smiles, hugs and kisses to cheeks and even if the others didn’t realize it, Emma did. And it wasn’t just the Queen, either. The whole band was different now. They all had sharper edges than before. She’d certainly never be able to explain that, though, without also explaining how she knew it. And she sure wasn’t showing anyone else that book.

Belle clicked out of the videos and took them to a section of the site dedicated to the Takeovers. “I told Emma about this a few weeks ago, but nothing came of it, and I couldn’t find any of the clues myself. Then I found this guy.”

At the top of the screen was the stylized crown Emma recognized from the picture Belle had shown her before, of the mirror at the Pride Lands. But Tina tapped it and said, “This is on Mal’s drum kit.” Emma had noticed that before, but it hadn’t really clicked until now.

Belle clicked on one of the highlighted dates. Inside that page was a neat row of pictures. Emma, Ruby, and Tina all leaned forward to get better looks. The pictures were all of the insides of different bathroom, the sides of buildings and dumpsters, on little business cards left on windshields and benches and restaurant tables. Under every crown was a date; the same date. It was different than the one from the mirror, though.

“That’s the day they crashed the Jolly Rogers for the first time,” Belle explained. She clicked the back arrow, and clicked on another date. Same thing here, a dozen crowns found around town, with a different date in the filigree. “Here’s another War Council Takeover.” Then she went back and clicked on a new date. More crowns with a new date. “And that’s the night they did Rid of Me.”

“Holy shit,” Tina repeated.

“We need new curse words,” Ruby muttered. She was staring at the screen with wide eyes. “This is genius. This is…this is really good.”

Belle scrolled them down the page a little more. “Some of the date crowns leave clues for whose show they’re crashing. This one is ours.” She pointed at the line art swan with a crown on its head. “The Jolly Rogers have a ship with a crown on the sails, War Council two swords crossed behind a crown, that kind of thing. They leave false trails too, sometimes, so you have to be careful, but if we just keep our eyes out, we don’t ever have to be surprised by a Takeover again.”

Emma wasn’t as worried about that as the others seemed to be. They’d handled themselves exceedingly well so far, and she was confident that the Regals could come try to crash their shows every day from now on and they would know how to handle it every time. She’d asked Belle to figure this out for a different reason entirely. Holding up her hand, she silenced everyone, and asked a very important question.

“Guys. Who wants to go see the Evil Regals?”

* * *

They’d narrowed it down to Madhouse and the Jolly Rogers. Well, Emma amended, Sydney Glass and all his anal retentive attention to detail had narrowed it down, and they’d just followed his advice. Since both shows were equally likely to experience the Evil Regals tonight, the Lost Girls had split up accordingly, with Belle and Tina insisting that Emma and Ruby take on the Jolly Rogers show, since the both of them got on so well with the guys. Emma had tossed pillows at the two for that, but agreed easily enough. Mostly because she figured the guys were a better target than Madhouse; despite their name the guys of Madhouse seemed to be mostly levelheaded, and a Takeover didn’t ruffle them much. What fun, Emma reasoned, was there in crashing a band if the band wasn’t going to react? If she were Regina, that’s how she would have made the decision.

Ruby had raised an eyebrow at her when she’d explained _that_ part out loud. Emma just bumped her shoulder and muttered, “Shut up. You know I’m right.”

And, of course, she had been. Twenty minutes into the show, the Jolly Rogers cut out, and Zelena showed up under spotlight with a cello, churning out the opening notes of Tool’s Sober.

The light widened to show the rest of the band, each of them standing—or, in Mal’s case, sitting—with their instruments in loose, waiting hands. Regina, Emma noted with interest, was playing guitar again. While Zelena was still the only one playing, Regina pushed her guitar behind her a little and approached her microphone.

_“There’s a shadow just behind me_   
_Shrouding every step I take_   
_Making every promise empty_   
_Pointing every finger at me”_

She kept her voice simple, the cleanest version of it that Emma had ever heard, as she went through the first verse. It was just pretty, Emma thought, which was an interesting contrast to the heavy lyrics dripping from her lips.

A thin cheer from a single throat rose out of the assembled crowd, but for the most part, everyone was quiet as they watched. Regina pulled her guitar around her body, and together she, Gold, and Malady came in strong, while Regina repeated the first verse with a stronger voice.

“I sort of want to kill her,” Ruby said into Emma’s ear.

Emma nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from the band.

_“Why can’t we not be sober?_   
_I just want to start this over_   
_Why can’t we drink forever?_   
_I just want to start things over”_

The Queen’s hands left her guitar to clutch into the fabric of her dress as she sang, swaying into and away from the microphone distractedly. Her voice cracked at the end of her ‘why’s and Zelena slanted her eyes over at her sister briefly each time, a frown tightening her lips.

The clean, simple version of Regina’s voice came back again, almost whispering as the woman shut her eyes and winced a new verse.

_“I am just a worthless liar_   
_I am just an imbecile_   
_I will only complicate you_   
_Trust in me and fall as well”_

Then, completely at odds with the intensity of the Evil Regals, the Jolly Rogers came live again, Neal’s guitar beating out a steady rhythm.

Ruby snickered a little. “Copycats.”

Killian leered at the Queen as he started singing. _“Can’t stay at home, can’t stay at school, old folks say you poor little fool!”_

Emma groaned. “Dammit, I wanted to cover Cherry Bomb!”

“This is not going to end pretty.”

The Evil Regals intensified their music, and Regina raised her voice to overpower him, a dirty sneer twisting her lips. _“I will find a center in you, I will chew it up and leave. I will work to elevate you,”_

_“Down the streets, I’m the guy next door, I’m the fox you’ve been waiting for!”_

Ruby was wincing at the way Killian was shouting the lyrics over Neal’s guitar. “Oh my god, this is really bad. Is this what we sounded like when we did this?”

Emma shook her head. “I guess? Our song matched theirs about as well as Cherry Bomb matches Sober.”

“I seriously feel like we need to apologize.” The taller woman was clenching her fists, almost as though she were fighting the urge to put them over her ears.

Regina lifted a hand and twirled a finger; her band intensified their efforts again, and her voice cracked out in an angry husk when she belted out the next lyrics.

Neal and Killian exchanged glances. Neal shoved into Killian’s space so he could lean into the microphone and screamed the chorus with him.

_“Hello, daddy_   
_Hello, mom_   
_I’m your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!”_

Emma grimaced; Neal wasn’t really singing with Killian so much as he was screaming over him. Emma knew he was just trying to divert attention from the Evil Regals but it really just sounded like he was trying to overpower everyone in the room. Which, she also knew, was because Killian was trying to shout over _him_. It was all just really, very messy.

The Evil Regals looked positively predatory as they all zeroed their glares on their adversaries. Zelena stood and walked her cello over to her sister; both of them kept up their playing while they copied Neal and Killian’s stance and sang into the same microphone.

_“Why can’t we not be sober?_   
_I just want to start this over_   
_Why can’t we sleep forever?_   
_I just want to start things over?”_

Their voices blended the way Neal and Killian _could_ but today just _weren’t_. They were too busy trying to drown out the other band and each other that they just forgot about everything else. Killian shouldered Neal out of his way with a sour look at his band mate, and hunched around his mic to keep him from coming back.

_“I’ll give you something to live for_   
_Have you and grab you_   
_Until you—”_

Mid-lyric, the mic went completely dead. A few moments later, the rest of the band went silent again. Killian glowered at something Emma couldn’t see offstage, and Robin barely caught the singer as he went flying towards whatever it was, looking enraged. Emma could just barely hear him shouting but she couldn’t tell what he was saying.

“Thank god,” Ruby muttered. “That was really painful.”

“At least people were cheering when we did it,” Emma said back. “I can’t believe we lost out on Cherry Bomb though.”

Ruby groaned. “I know. We’re going to end up with the Shania Twain song, I can just feel it.”

“I’ve got my fingers crossed that War Council does that one actually,” Emma snickered. “At some point they’re going to have to start assigning songs, right?”

On stage, the Jolly Rogers were carting their instruments away. Actually, Neal was carting instruments. Robin and August were physically dragging Killian, still ranting, this time at the Evil Regals, off the stage.

Regina’s lips twisted into a mean smirk. She took a hand off her guitar and blew Killian a kiss.

_“I want what I want_   
_I want what I want_   
_I want what I want”_

* * *

Emma left Ruby at the bar as the Evil Regals let Zelena play Sober to its end. The Evil Regals had used all their own equipment this time, and whenever that happened, the band themselves disappeared while others did the heavy lifting and carried Mal’s drums away. But Emma knew she and her band would never think about leaving before their stuff, even if they did ever have other people to do the tear down, so she was banking on the hope that the Regals were the same way.

She left through the front, then walked around back to where the loading zone was. There was a van there, unmarked, parked in front of Robin’s beater truck that the Jolly Rogers used to cart around their stuff. The van, she was sure, belonged to the Evil Regals. They were so the type for the stark, clean lines the vehicle presented. She went over and peeked inside, but the interior was almost disturbingly clean. Still, Emma looked into every window, just to be sure.

“What _exactly_ are you doing out here, Miss Swan?”

Emma jumped at the stern voice, knocking her head against the window she’d been pressed up against. She pressed a hand to her forehead, groaning, “Owwwwww fuck!”

“Serves you right,” Regina told her frankly. She came closer, leaning against the van to look Emma up and down. “I’ll ask again. What are you doing?”

“Um…” Emma flushed, suddenly realizing how creepy she was being. “I’m doing the…less stalker-y version…of looking for you?”

The Queen was surprised. Or at least, Emma took the one slightly raised eyebrow to be surprise. Then, “Is there a less stalker-y version of that?”

“Yeah, because I’m doing it,” Emma insisted. “Actually, I guess I just wanted to…talk to you? Or something. Listen, can I buy you a drink?”

The eyebrow crept a little higher. “Miss Swan. What makes you think I have any interest in socializing with _you?_ Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t _you_ singularly responsible for the travesty that just happened in there?”

“How is it my fault Killian and Neal can’t play nice? I seem to remember our mashup being way more fun than that.” Emma smiled at her hopefully. “At least, people were cheering when we did it.”

“I think I’ll still blame you.”

Emma shrugged. “Whatever makes you feel better about the lengths you’re making the rest of us go to in order to keep performing after you jerks come in and steal our shows, Regina.”

Actual, real shock on the woman’s face now; Emma smirked at the dropped jaw. It lasted only a moment before the Queen was back in control, icier than ever before. “I don’t remember telling you that you could use my name, Miss Swan.”

“Well, excuse me, _Your Majesty_.” Emma gave a short, sharp bow. “Wait, is this how you’re going to destroy me?”

Regina blinked slowly. She regarded Emma with a blank face, until Emma began to fidget awkwardly in the silence. Only then did she ask, “I beg your pardon?”

Emma waved a hand through the air. “You know, the last time we talked. You said you would destroy me. Is this how you’re going to do it? By being frigid and rude? Because I have to admit, I’m not impressed so far.” The look on the brunette’s face was completely uncomprehending. Emma faltered a little. “Um, you sang Rid of Me? I came in for my jacket, you were sitting in the dark?” She waved her hands around in a vaguely threatening manner. _“If you interfere with me again, I will destroy you?”_

“Well,” the Queen sniffed, haughty. Her face was carefully smoothed out of any expression of disdain; Emma distinctly got the impression that she really didn’t remember the conversation at all, and just didn’t want to admit it. “Perhaps I’ve simply decided that you aren’t significant enough to be worth the effort.”

“Oh my god,” Emma crowed, amused as hell all of the sudden. “You are the utter limit! Do you seriously not—”

“Is there a reason you’re here?” The brunette interrupted sharply, shaking her head in exasperation and looking suddenly very tired. “Other than to annoy me?”

“Jesus, you are impossible, aren’t you?” Emma growled, fed up. “I’m just trying to, I don’t know, be friendly or whatever. You’re the one that’s turning it into a big uncomfortable thing, with all the insults and the _Miss Swan_.” She pushed off from the van, coming right up into the woman’s personal space and studying her face closely. If she was uncomfortable with Emma’s proximity she didn’t let it show. Emma sighed. “You got a timeline for how long you’re going to be pulling this shit? Or is Róisín Ghorm right and all you’ll ever amount to these days is one song sets during other people’s gigs?”

Before Emma knew what was happening, Regina’s hand shot out and connected solidly with the middle of her chest. Emma stumbled back clumsily, only catching herself on the van’s side mirror.

“Oh good, human emotion! Here I thought you were just a bitchy robot!”

“That is _enough!_ ” Regina slammed a hand down on the side door of the van. She got right into Emma’s face and snarled, “I didn’t ask for this little tryst so why don’t you just—”

“OI! EMMA!”

They both froze at the loud shout of Emma’s name. Emma closed her eyes and groaned. That was definitely Killian, and he sounded like he was already drunk. Just what she needed.

“SWAAAAAN!”

Regina stepped away, smirking. “As much as I hate to cut this short, _dear_ , it seems you have an admirer looking for you. Run along now!” She made little shooing gestures with her hands. Emma growled, and took a step closer.

“EMMAAAAAAAAA!”

“For Christ’s sake Killian, _shut! Up!_ ”

She stomped away from the van to look for the belligerent singer, knowing that Regina was going to disappear while she tried to convince Killian to go back inside before someone called the cops on him, but also knowing that Killian would just continue to wander around shouting her name if she didn’t find him first. Sure enough, when she looked back to the van, the Queen was already gone; in the back of the parking lot, lights came on and Emma watched a black car leave the lot. Killian rounded the corner a moment later, saw her, and threw his arms wide. “Emma, luv! Give us a kiss!”

His hands landed heavily on her shoulders, and he leaned forward with pursed lips. She could smell the alcohol on his breath and turned her face away. “Oh my god, Killian, how the hell did you get this drunk this quickly? You started drinking before you started playing, didn’t you? No wonder you and Neal were such clowns tonight.” She planted her hand in the middle of his forehead and shoved. Then she hooked one arm behind his back and another across his front. “Come on. Let’s get back inside. Before someone really _does_ call the cops.”

He followed her willingly enough, babbling on about the Takeover and how Neal tried to steal his spotlight, while Emma just made vaguely agreeing noises. She only looked over her shoulder at the van once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used in this chapter:  
> Sober, by Tool  
> Cherry Bomb, by the Runaways


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Emma and Neal hang out, and Emma bonds with the Queen...and her sister?

The next morning found Emma at Granny’s Diner, Ruby’s second job, with vague ideas of making a nuisance of herself to Ruby until she had to go to work. A quick scan of the diner, though, and she caught sight of something much more entertaining than flicking sugar packets at her guitarist. She resisted the urge to clap her hands together in glee, and made her way to the back of the dining room.

“ _Sooooo_ ,” Emma drawled, running her hand along Neal’s shoulder as she popped around him to sit in the booth across from him. She gave him a big, shit eating grin. “How stupid do you feel today?”

Neal groaned and buried his head in his arms. “Shut up, Emma.”

Emma cackled, reaching out to poke the bend of his elbow. “Aww, Neal, did you make bad decisions last night?”

Neal made another disconsolate sound, pulling a fresh round of laughter from Emma’s lips. Still chuckling, she caught Ruby’s eye and held up Neal’s coffee cup, then two fingers. Ruby gave her a quick thumbs up, turning back to the table she’d just been about to take orders from. Then she picked a steak fry off of Neal’s unfinished plate and popped it into her mouth, waiting.

“Are you still here?” Neal peeked at her from between his arms.

“Uh, yeah! I like watching you wallow in your own idiocy,” Emma told him brightly. “But also, seriously, I did kind of want to check in. What happened last night?”

It wasn’t that Killian and Neal weren’t known to compete with one another. Actually, that was kind of the defining characteristic of their friendship, as far as Emma could tell. They were always at odds over something, whether it be the spotlight, or Emma’s attention (well, any female, really, Emma had to acknowledge it, but they seemed to really get ugly over Emma), or hell, even which of them left their ID at the bar when they opened a tab. What made last night weird wasn’t that they’d been competing, it was that they hadn’t been able to recover.

“It’s your fault!” Neal shot up, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “You’re the one that started this!”

“Actually, I think it was the Evil Assholes that started it,” Emma corrected him glibly. “But you can blame me if you want to. You’re not even the first. Thanks, Rubes.”

Ruby had come with a new cup for Emma and a refill for Neal. “Emma, Granny says you need to eat because you’re too skinny. So, welcome to the family, she’s making you an omelet and putting the whole kitchen in it. Nice choke last night, Neal. Really well done.”

Neal thumped his head pathetically down against the table. “It was a bad idea. Robin actually told him that when we started to plug in again. I kind of started some shit with Killian before the show, and he was pretty pissed off at me.”

“You two are a mess,” Emma said bluntly. “Was it serious?”

Neal rolled his eyes. “He’ll be over it by tomorrow. But I don’t think it was just that we weren’t meshing well.” At Emma’s raised eyebrow, he ducked his head and scrubbed at the back of his neck with one hand. After several moments of not seeming to know how to say it, he finally just blurted out, “They’re just really intimidating, okay? The guitarist creeps me the fuck out, and I am pretty sure the drummer thinks I would taste good with ketchup. We chose a bad song and panicked, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

Emma sighed. “Ugh. How do you manage to make me feel bad for you every single time? Okay, I’m going to do you a favor. Meet me tonight at the Rabbit Hole. Don’t ask questions, just come. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

* * *

The really impressive thing about Madhouse, Emma thought as she stared in fascination at the stage, was that they were the _more_ stable choice between them and the Jolly Rogers. Emma had never seen them perform, she’d only ever talked to them socially before, and they were all really, super mellow guys. So maybe the twins were a little weird, the way they seemed to talk in shorthand half the time, but none of them had struck her as, well, _mad._ But watching the twins drum together, the light up points of their sticks flying in wild arcs, was kind of crazy. The rest of the band was nuts, running around with their weird, acid trip props. They had a kind of frenetic energy that made Emma think of Tina, actually, and she wished she’d thought to bring the blonde with them. She’d enjoy this, Emma was sure.

Neal just looked bemused. He tilted his head toward Emma, though he never took his eyes off the band. “These guys are…”

“Yeah,” Emma nodded. “I’m getting dizzy watching them.”

They watched for the rest of the song, and then simultaneously turned away, leaning against their table. Neal chuckled. “I actually like them when I don’t have to watch them move.”

Emma snickered. He shoved her shoulder, and her snicker became a full laugh. She pushed him back, and that set him off too.

“So why are we here?” Neal asked when they had both calmed down some. “I thought you said you were going to show me something?”

“I didn’t show you something?” Emma jerked her thumb over her shoulder to the band. “Because I think they count as something.”

“Don’t be a jerk, Emma.”

Emma stuck her tongue out. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it soon.”

“This had better be worth it,” he told her, mock threateningly. “I got seasick watching them.”

“You’ll be glad you stayed,” Emma promised.

“I’m already glad I came.” Neal was looking at her so earnestly that Emma couldn’t help but to smile back. She forgot that things could be easy between them, as long as it was just the two of them. Neal and Killian were a competitive mess when they were together, and when she was added to the mix, they became a jealous competitive mess, and sometimes Emma encouraged that, just because she could. But it was at times like these that Emma remembered that Neal was her oldest friend.

“I didn’t expect you to stay here this long.”

Emma shook herself out of her head and frowned. “Um, I invited you here?”

“No,” Neal grinned. “Not here tonight. Here in general. Storybrooke. I didn’t expect you’d be here more than a few months.”

“Oh.” Emma frowned, wishing she had a beer, if only so she had something to do with her hands. In the absence of a label to tear, she picked at her nails instead. “Yeah. I mean, I guess I kind of like it here. I didn’t mean to!” She said that almost defensively, but Neal just raised an eyebrow at her. “Anyway, isn’t this kind of what I’m supposed to be doing? Like, settling down or some shit like that?”

“I think the general expectation is that you settle down and have a real life, not a rock band. Like Mary Margaret is doing.”

“Yeah, well…” Emma shrugged. It was a nice thought, and Mary Margaret’s life did seem pretty great, but Emma was fairly certain she’d never have anything like it. Uncomfortable suddenly, she darted her eyes around the room, looking for something to distract them. It would have been an excellent time for the Evil Regals to show up and cut the power, but of course she wasn’t that lucky. So in the absence of a convenient reason to stop talking entirely, Emma just changed the subject completely. “So. When are you and Killian going to start behaving like adults? Or at least, less obnoxious human beings?”

Neal rapped the table with his knuckles, chuckling a little ruefully. “Probably never. He’s a loudmouthed idiot that turns everything into a competition.”

“Well then, it works out well for you, I guess, because you’re a soft spoken idiot that turns everything into a competition.”

“And you’ve slept with us both, so clearly you have a thing for idiots.”

Emma closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them again, Neal at least had the decency to look like he knew he had overstepped his bounds. “Sorry, Emma.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” she muttered.

“Yeah, I know.” Her old friend reached over and tapped the back of her hand with his index finger. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came to Storybrooke.”

Emma smiled at him, genuinely. As much as he annoyed her, and as often as he didn’t seem to realize that utter crap came tumbling out of his mouth whenever he opened it, she’d actually missed him over the years. Sure, he pissed her off, even more so now that she had to deal with him and Killian together, but she was glad he was back in her life. So she was being completely honest when she said, “Yeah, me too.”

They were awkward in the heartfelt moment they suddenly found themselves in. This time, Emma did actually catch a break. Behind them, Madhouse went silent, and Neal’s eyes got huge. He grabbed her arm. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope,” Emma said smugly, popping the ‘p’ sound. “Thought you might like a chance to observe the enemy in their natural environment. You know, when they aren’t pissing on your territory.”

“You knew!” Neal accused in amazement. “How the hell did you know?”

“Now that would be telling.” Emma couldn’t contain her gleeful grin when Neal turned to level a dark glare at her. Emma was about to assure him, when his head whipped back around again as, sans any musical accompaniment, the Queen began her song. Emma groaned as she heard the first lyrics ( _”I’m as fake as a wedding cake”_ ) “We are so getting the country song.” She leaned into Neal and clapped him on the shoulder. “Have fun. I’ve got to do a thing. Meet you back here later on, okay?”

Neal nodded vaguely, waving her off so he could focus on the performance. She pushed her way through the swaying crowd; this was a really interesting arrangement for this song, she noted as she went. It was quiet and slow instead of fast paced and heavy, and between Regina’s lyrics, Zelena was whispering lyrics too. ( _”Lifelike and poseable, hopeless and disposable”_ )

“Cheerful bunch, aren’t they?” she said pleasantly to someone she didn’t know as she passed by. He barely acknowledged her. She looked around the room, a little uncertainly. She hadn’t really thought this out well. Actually, she hadn’t really thought it out at _all_ , her entire thought process beginning and ending with the decision that she was going to make Regina Mills talk to her. But frankly, she’d been lucky the last couple of times. Okay, the last time, really, since she hadn’t actually sought out the first encounter. All she knew was that Regina had a tendency to isolate herself after a performance. She couldn’t even say for certain how long she’d stay afterward; the first time, she’d still been around long after the Evil Regals had finished their one song. The last time, she’d left almost immediately.

“If I were a super bitchy cry for attention, where would I go?” she wondered aloud.

It was then that she remembered: she knew what Regina’s car looked like. She’d seen Regina pull out in it just last night. But also, now that she was thinking about it, there was that photo in the album, with them both sitting in the parked car, in the driver’s seat with the window down, the kid in Regina’s lap, hunched over the steering wheel. He was clearly pretending they were racing. Emma was sure she could recognize that car. So she quickly made her way outside and around the corner, where the lot was.

Sure enough, she recognized Regina’s car with no problem. The bar shared its lot with a liquor store, which Emma thought was both devious and hilarious. Looking at it gave her an idea, though. She ran over, chuckling. She made her selection quickly, and took it up to the counter to pay. When the checker looked at her ID, he grinned at her.

“Heeey, I know about you!” he nodded like they were having a conversation. “I read about your band on the Bandit’s blog!”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Of course you did.” She snatched the paper bag from his hands. “Thanks, bye!”

“Your guitarist is mega hot!” he called after her as she quickly left the store, muttering under her breath the whole time. “Stupid fucking Astrid Nova and her stupid fucking blog.” She found Regina’s car again and leaned against it, her mood quickly taking a turn for the worse, as it usually could be counted on to do whenever she got to thinking too hard about Astrid Nova and her blog. Lately hadn’t been so bad, since everyone was so focused on the Takeovers and the covers list. Emma had been glad of the reprieve; she’d been getting seriously sick of the way Astrid never seemed to give the Lost Girls a break. “Just because we haven’t been around as long as everyone else.”

“What the _hell_ are you doing?”

Emma turned her head. For a moment, she just gaped, because Regina Mills was an intimidating, amazing sight when she was angry.

“Get off of my car!” the other singer yelled, stalking forward. She grabbed the bottle out of Emma’s hand and curled her fingers into Emma’s tank top to yank her away from the hood of the car. She didn’t let go as she snarled, “I’m beginning to believe you are _actually_ stalking me! What the hell are you doing?”

Leaning away from the woman—as much as she could when she wouldn’t let go of her shirt—Emma tried hard to act like she didn’t think that Regina would set her on fire if only there were a lighter around. She tipped her chin at the bottle Regina still held. “So, that would be a no to the drink again? Can I have it back, then?”

“Of course I’m not going to drink it! Who knows _what_ you put in it?”

Emma grabbed Regina’s wrist, offended. “Hey! I don’t need to drug chicks into hanging out with me! You’re really rude!”

“And you’re really annoying, Miss Swan,” Regina growled in return, pulling the bottle out of Emma’s reach when she made a swipe for it. The paper bag slipped a little, and she just let it fall. “What disgusting alcohol—”

“You better pick that up,” Emma muttered, toeing the bag. Regina didn’t answer; she was staring at the bottle, her fingers slowly uncurling from Emma’s shirt. “Hey, are you okay?”

Regina lowered the bottle, stepping away. “You stalked my car to bring me cider?”

“Um…yes?” The blank look on Regina’s face confused Emma. It wasn’t that big of a deal. Okay, so maybe she’d gotten this particular brand because in a few of the 4th of July pictures, there were a couple of bottles of this brand sitting at Regina and Zelena’s knees. And, okay, so maybe _that_ was a little bit stalkery, but how was Regina to know that this just wasn’t her favorite brand?

Regina sighed. “You better not have roofied this,” she warned, before putting it to her lips and taking a pull.

Emma felt her mouth drop open in shock. “Wait. You’re actually going to sit here with me?”

“Apparently so.” The woman’s voice held no inflection. Her face was still completely impassive. She didn’t look excited in any way, but she leaned against her car anyway, indicating Emma should take her spot back. “You’ll just keep following me around if I don’t.”

“I’ll probably keep following you around anyway, you know. Now that I know I can annoy you into hanging out with me.”

“Are you six?”

Emma took the bottle and took a sip, pretending to think about it. Finally she shook her head. “Nah. Probably more like…eight? Ten at the most.”

“You’re very strange.” Regina shook her head. “Why are you doing this?” Emma stared at her. Then, uncomfortably, “What?”

“You’re joking, right?”

The brunette finally looked at her. “No. I’m quite serious. I don’t understand why you’ve been seeking me out this way.”

“Oh my god.” Emma laughed a little. “I don’t understand you, like, at all. Do you realize that in the year that I’ve been in this town, about 80% of the rumor mill is about you and your stupid band? Seriously, I’ve heard more stories about how you guys were abducted by aliens than you want to know.” Off Regina’s incredulous look, she just shrugged. “I know, right? You guys show back up out of nowhere, with the most genius, asshole scheme ever to get people to pay attention to you, and now you’re surprised someone wants to talk to you. I can’t believe you’re actually confused about that.”

Regina’s nose had scrunched a little when Emma called her an asshole, but she didn’t make any protest. What she said was, “I understand perfectly why you’d be interested in talking to _us._ But you, Miss Swan, are going to lengths so that my band is not involved in our meetings. You don’t want to talk to us, you want to talk to me. That, my dear, is what I do not understand.”

Emma froze. She couldn’t very well tell the woman about the book she’d found, or how the pictures inside were the driving force behind wanting to get to know her. She could maybe admit that it was pretty fun riling the other woman up, but that sounded truly juvenile and she thought it might actually cause her to lose the little bit of ground she’d gained already tonight. So she just shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’m impulsive like that. Whatever. I mean, I kind of thought you would, you know, take advantage of the fact that everyone creams their pants over you guys, but no one sees you except when you show up to perform. It’s just interesting, I guess.” She shrugged. “At least when no one knew what happened to you, people saw the others out and, like, shopping and stuff. But it’s almost like you don’t exist outside of your band.”

Regina snatched the bottle back and took a very long drink. When she was done, she fixed her eyes ahead of her and said, too casually for Emma to think she was actually okay, “Maybe I don’t exist outside of my band.”

A hundred reasons Emma knew that wasn’t true were on the tip of her tongue, and they all involved a brown eyed little boy with a bright smile. She shook her head. “Now that’s not true at all.”

A shaky inhalation of breath next to her was the only indication that the other singer had heard her. She looked like she was formulating a reply, so Emma waited patiently for it.

“Well, well. I had wondered where you wandered off to, sister dear.”

Emma and Regina both turned their heads. Oh good, Emma got to talk to two Evil Regals tonight. Regina’s sister had her hands planted on her hips, her mouth twisted up in annoyance as she eyed Emma with suspicion.

“Why is your sister British?” Emma murmured out of the corner of her mouth.

Regina chuckled. “She’s not British, dear, she’s _pretentious._ Hello, Zelena. Did you need something?”

Zelena zeroed in on the bottle in Regina’s hand. She marched up and snatched it, looking at the label with distaste before thrusting it back into Emma’s hands. Liquid sloshed out of it and trickled down Emma’s wrist. The redhead took hold of Regina’s arm and pulled her away from the hood of the car.

“We’ve been quite worried that we couldn’t find you, Regina,” she said, without looking away from Emma. “Mal is having some issues I think you’re the only one she’ll speak with about. Perhaps you should find her?”

Regina rolled her eyes at the obvious attempt to get her to leave. “Don’t be jealous, Zelena. We were just talking.” She twisted her wrist out of the tight hold. “Go easy on the girl, she was only being polite. Well, sort of. Thank you for the drink, dear.”

Emma and Zelena both watched her go, heading back into the bar without a backward glance. As soon as she was gone, Emma wasn’t surprised when her sister got up in her face with a snarl.

“Whatever you think you’re doing with my sister, it ends after tonight.” The redhead looked at her with utter disdain and flicked the glass bottle in her hand with a green tipped fingernail. “She has no need of friends like _you._ ”

“Wow, bitchy runs in the family,” Emma muttered, rolling her eyes. “We were talking, that’s all. She’s a grown lady, I think she can handle a conversation or two.”

“Nevertheless,” Zelena sneered. “Perhaps you might find it a more pleasant experience if you simply left her alone from now on.”

Emma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “This has got to be a fucking joke! I am not seriously being warned off a girl like I’m some sixteen year old perv!” Zelena opened her mouth but Emma cut her off, waving her arms around wildly. “No, nope, I’m so done with you. Don’t talk. This is completely ridiculous. You’re nuts, lady!”

She turned and stormed away, her ire overtaking her surprise when she saw that Neal had found her. He was gaping at her from the corner of the parking lot. As she stalked by, she looped her arm around his elbow, towing him along beside her.

“You got an opinion?” she demanded of him. “You gonna tell me who I shouldn’t be talking to?”

Wordlessly, Neal only shook his head. Emma nodded sharply. “Good.”

Sometimes, Neal _wasn’t_ an idiot after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used in this chapter:  
> New Model No. 15, by Marilyn Manson


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mary Margaret provides a little background, and Emma gets a surprise.

It looked like the Regal Takeovers were just going to be part of their lives for the foreseeable future. Because the band was giving no sign that they were ready to stop stealing shows to perform on their own. They, and the other bands in town, steadily worked their way through the covers list, and the Regals kept crashing other shows with them, until only a few songs were left. To Emma’s delight, as well as to the other Lost Girls, and just about every other band in town, probably, War Council ended up with the country song. That was a great day, when the video went live, and Emma and the Lost Girls watched it obsessively. It was never less funny to them than it had been the first time. Watching Philomena De Ville drum her way through a Shania Twain song while she was clearly contemplating a murder spree was comedy _gold._ Someone, of course, gifed it, and for a while, her sour face and the captioned lyrics “no one needs to know” flew to and from every phone and computer in town. Astrid Nova even pinned it at the top of her blog, and Emma immediately forgave her for any past offense after that.

Emma missed talking with Regina twice after that night at the Rabbit Hole. She tried tracking the woman down, but the rest of the band, now that they were onto what Emma was doing, got very good very quickly at keeping Regina away from her. So she took a couple Takeovers off, just to regroup. Anyway, it was officially summer now, and Mary Margaret was feeling guilty about leaving Emma all alone most of the time, which meant that Emma got to see her more regularly now than just once or twice a week for five minutes as they passed one another on the stairs. She was even spending three or four nights a week at the apartment with Emma instead of at David’s. Sometimes David joined them there, but mostly he didn’t. Emma wasn’t complaining; aside from Ruby, Mary Margaret was pretty much the best friend she had, so it was nice to be able to spend time with her, even if she did think Mary Margaret would be better off dropping the pretense and just moving in with David completely.

For some reason, she’d never told anyone about her conversations with Regina, not even the other Lost Girls. When Neal asked her about what he’d seen at the Rabbit Hole, Emma blew him off, siting wrong place and wrong time and making it sound like the whole experience had been unpleasant, not just the bit with Zelena. She was pretty sure telling other people about what she was doing would be more trouble than it was worth; she didn’t really want to talk about it with anyone anyway.

Mary Margaret was different, though. Mary Margaret knew things Emma didn’t. So Emma told Mary Margaret.

“So, you actually spoke with her?”

Emma was starting to think she’d actually broken Mary Margaret somehow, because this was the third time she’d asked that question. So, heaving a sigh, Emma answered her for the third time. “Yes, I talked with her. On accident the first time, not so much the other two. She’s kind of rude and bitchy, but her sister is way worse.”

Mary Margaret smiled faintly and finally said something new. “Yes, well, Zelena was always the meaner of the two.”

“So it is true!” Emma crowed, pointing at her friend. “Ruby said you were friends with her before but I didn’t really believe her.”

“I wouldn’t say we were friends so much as they were my next door neighbors when I was a child and my father had an agreement with their mother that I would go over to their house after school if he wasn’t going to be home when the bus dropped me off.” Mary Margaret wrinkled her nose. “Zelena used to tease me mercilessly for it once we got into high school.” She shrugged. “Regina was in all the advanced classes at school and I was two grades below her so she would tutor me in some of my classes while I waited for Daddy to get home. I paid her by keeping a bunch of her more…um… _alternative_ clothing and makeup in my room so her mother wouldn’t find it.”

Emma burst out laughing. “Oh my god, I can totally picture it. Little baby goth Regina and little baby goody two shoes Mary Margaret! I bet you guys were _adorable!”_

Mary Margaret smacked Emma across the arm, snickering. “Hush your mouth. We _were_ adorable, thank you very much!” She sighed, her eyes going a little fuzzy as she clearly lost herself in memories. Emma slapped a palm over her mouth, barely managing to restrain herself from bursting into a cheesy rendition of Elvis Presley. But Mary Margaret knew her too well at this point, and threw her a sharp glare anyway. Emma gave her a little shrug, still not trusting herself not to laugh if she tried to speak. Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, but smiled, and continued her little trip down memory lane. “I was much too much in awe of Regina to be brave enough to actually be her friend.”

Emma cackled. “Mary Margaret. You had a crush!”

“I did not!” The brunette blushed deep red, and Emma waggled her eyebrows at her suggestively. With an indignant huff, Mary Margaret launched a pillow into Emma’s face. “Oh, shut up. So maybe it was a tiny crush. Itty bitty, really. Anyway, she had a boyfriend she was crazy about.”

Something about Mary Margaret’s soft tone made Emma tilt her head. Her roommate caught the curious gesture and sighed deeply. “His name was Daniel,” she explained. “He was a few years older than she was, out of high school but not taking any college classes or anything. She was so in love, and I thought it was so romantic, I didn’t understand the reality of it. She asked me to say she was tutoring me, when really she’d be out with him. She’d come over with school work and change in my room and go out the window. This was just about the time that Heartless was forming.”

Emma leaned forward, listening eagerly. This was just too good, all this teen drama soap opera bullshit. She was loving every second of it, and this romanticized version of reality was making it easy for Emma to see how the woman in her photo album evolved. And, an added bonus, she was learning more about Mary Margaret too. It was a nice break from the rest of reality.

Something hit her then. A half remembered Astrid Nova blog post from right after the Evil Regals returned to music. She snapped her fingers, grasping at the memory. “Wait, Daniel was the drummer? The one she was engaged to?”

“That’s right. Oh, it was so scandalous, Emma!” Mary Margaret laughed a little, remembering. “Zelena came over one evening when Regina was supposed to be tutoring me, found out she wasn’t there, and told their mother. I’m not entirely sure what happened, but one night after that, Regina came over with a bloody lip, positively enraged. She packed up all of her things from my room, and ran away to be with him.”

“Oh my god, no wonder you’re a goddamn hopeless romantic,” Emma laughed. “If this was happening in your bedroom at fifteen!”

Mary Margaret laughed too. “Oh, I know. I never stood a chance. But, you know, after she ran away, she kept tutoring me. I’m not sure how she managed to stay in school, and hold a job down, because she and Daniel were living in this really tiny one bedroom apartment and neither one of them really made enough money. And she helped put Heartless together, _and_ she still had enough time for me. She let me come to band practices and she would help me study there.”

Oh yeah. Emma was having no trouble at all imagining Regina as a girl anymore. This picture that Mary Margaret was painting for her, it was so easy to align that girl with the woman in the storybook album. What Emma had trouble with was connecting these images with the woman that Emma actually knew. That was the point of it all, really, when she was honest with herself. She was just curious.

Another added bonus to this was that now, Emma had a name for Little Prince’s father. That sandy haired man that was only around for a short amount of the boy’s life, that had to be Daniel. The first quarter of the photo album was full of pictures of him, every bit as ecstatic about his child as Regina was. The difference with him, though, was that Emma had noticed a progression in his appearance. His smile was never different, from the beginning of the book to the end of his era in it, but he had changed into a haggard, somewhat gaunt young man by the time the last photo of him was taken. At first Emma had just assumed that there had been a break up, and that’s why she never saw any more photos of him, but now that she remembered the blog post, she also remembered what Astrid had said about him. She frowned.

“Wait. Didn’t he die? Like, overdose or something?”

And that was it. The end of their happy trip down memory lane. Mary Margaret shut right down, her lips tightening and her fingers clenching into fists. She stood from the couch, taking Emma’s empty glass and the wine bottle they hadn’t quite killed off yet. Tersely she clipped, “Yes, he did. I’m tired, Emma, I think I’ll head to bed now. Goodnight.”

Emma watched her deposit the wine in the fridge and rinse out their two glasses, lost in her thoughts. There was clearly a story there, but it was one Emma could wait to hear. She didn’t want to put any more of a dampener on the fluff she’d been given tonight. One thing was for certain though, and it was that her interest in getting to know the Evil Regals’ mysterious singer had only intensified after this conversation. Her resolve firmed. Belle and the others were still tracking the Takeovers, and it was time for Emma to get back out there, too.

She had a mystery to solve.

* * *

Emma liked playing outdoors. The little back lot stage wasn’t much of anything, it was just a square of graveled land on an off street close to the outskirts of town. It barely held anyone, and it tended to be where the really hardcore metal bands played, where their crowds could mosh without fear of getting kicked out. That freaked Emma out a little, since there was just concrete and gravel on the ground, but she hadn’t heard of any really serious injuries yet. It was honestly a pretty ugly place, but it was under open sky and so when Killian had asked her if she and the Lost Girls had any interest in playing an impromptu show with them out there, Emma agreed immediately.

What she didn’t expect was the brunette leaning against one of the concrete barriers blocking the stage from the crowd when she and the other girls stepped off the stage so the Jolly Rogers could take over.

“Holy shit!” Ruby whispered upon seeing her.

“It that…?” Tina trailed off uncertainly, her eyes darting from her friends in her band to the brunette and back again. Belle only nodded, her brow furrowing in confusion, and Emma could almost see the gears in her head turning as she tried to figure out what was going on.

It was the first time that Emma had seen Regina since that night at the Rabbit Hole and Zelena had warned her off. More importantly, it was the first time that Emma had seen Regina since everything Mary Margaret had told her. As soon as she saw the woman, she couldn’t help the silly grin that took over her face. Her brain immediately aged Regina down, and pictured her leaning over Mary Margaret’s vanity table checking the wings on her eyeliner as she prepared for a secret date, while Mary Margaret sighed and fluttered in the reflection. She almost giggled at the unbidden mental image, and the only thing that stopped her was the way Regina was looking at her like she was a little batty.

Regina confirmed that when she looked at Ruby with pursed lips and asked with a certain amount of confused disdain, “Did she hit her head tonight?”

Ruby’s mouth worked like a fish, no sound escaping. Emma laughed, and shook her head. “At some point I’m going to stop being surprised at how rude you are. What the hell are you doing here?”

Regina’s lips pinched together even more. She looked confused about it herself. “I really don’t know, Miss Swan.”

“She knows your name,” Tina whisper squealed, her fingers gripping Emma’s bicep tightly and reminding Emma that she wasn’t alone. She elbowed the little blonde back a bit, and gestured at them. “Uh, sorry, this is Belle and Tina, and this is—”

“I know who Miss Lucas is, thank you,” Regina interrupted with barely a glance at any of them.

“She knows _my_ name!” Ruby adopted the same whisper scream Tina had used. Emma rolled her eyes.

“I was going to hang around and help tear down, but since you’re here…” Emma looked at the others. “You guys don’t mind if I take off, do you?”

Three voices replied at once. “No!” They all giggled a little, embarrassed at their simultaneous enthusiasm, and Belle waved her hands at Emma, adding, “It’s fine, you go on. We’ll see you later.”

She left her band, taking Regina’s elbow and walking them away from the lot. A cheer rose up as the Jolly Rogers started playing. She knew without looking back that her band was still staring, so without looking she raised the hand that wasn’t tugging Regina along, and playfully flipped them off. A few moments later, her phone went off. Digging it out of her ripped up jeans, she pulled up Ruby’s text.

_What the hell, Emma? You got some ‘splainin’ to do!_

Emma rolled her eyes and tucked her phone back into her pocket. As soon as they rounded the corner, Regina shook herself free and took the lead, bringing Emma to where her car was parked. Hardly able to believe this was actually happening, Emma didn’t dare speak until she was in the car, buckled up, and they were pulling away from their first stop sign.

“So, um, what are we doing?” Emma winced at the hesitancy in her voice, and the way Regina frowned at it, and hurriedly backtracked. “Not that I’m complaining! I’m just really surprised to see you! Last time didn’t… I mean, your sister was—”

“My sister is an idiot,” Regina interrupted. “Who presumes too much if she thinks she can dictate who I do and do not speak to.” There was a brief pause, and then Regina admitted, “I haven’t seen you around.”

Emma gaped, both at the way the confession was shyly spoken, and the admission that Regina had been looking for her. Then she grinned, and just sat there, staring at Regina and smiling like an idiot until finally the brunette snapped at her, _“What?”_

“You missed me!” Emma crowed in delight, not missing the way Regina flushed a little. “You liiiiiike me! Aw, does this mean we’re best friends? Can we get friendship bracelets? Wanna come to my house and have a slumber party this weekend? We can watch horror movies and talk about boys!”

“You…are a child,” Regina muttered.

Emma leaned back against her seat smugly. “Seeing as how we’re official best friends now, I’m not going to take offense to that. Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Regina turned the car toward the boardwalk, Emma perked up a little. In a bigger city the boardwalk would be entertainment central, but here in Storybrooke it was just a place that connected the docks and the warehouses around them to the rest of the town. Emma didn’t venture to this part of town much; there was no reason for her to, and it always smelled like fish.

“We may be best friends now, but I don’t think we’re skinny dipping close yet.”

Regina rolled her eyes and said nothing. She pulled into a little lot bursting with cars, and gestured to Emma to get out. Emma did, wrinkling her nose up when the smell of salt water and fish hit her nose.

“Yuck, fish,” she muttered, coming around to stand near Regina as the other woman locked up her vehicle. “So, where are you taking me?”

“This way, Miss Swan.”

“At some point, you’re going to want to call me Emma. You know, since we’re best friends and all.”

Regina stopped walking, and Emma bumped into her. The brunette didn’t say anything, just leveled her with an unimpressed stare. Emma just shrugged, completely unapologetic, until Regina sighed and turned around again.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” Emma asked as they walked.

“Just because I’m not given to mindless babbling?”

Emma laughed. “Yeah, that’s fair.” She fell silent, instead focusing on the architecture they were passing. She’d always thought this part of town was mostly industrial, but she was starting to see that there was more here than she’d thought. They were passing little shops and stores, places Emma had never even thought to look for before. They were all squished together in just a few short blocks, and most of them were closed and dark inside. Emma was already looking forward to coming back during the day to see what was there.

Not everything was closed, though. There were a few small restaurants and cafes with lights burning inside. It was to one of these that Regina led Emma. On her own, Emma never would have found the place. It was just a door between a bookstore and a clothing boutique. There wasn’t even a sign to mark it. But Regina pushed it open anyway, and led them down a long narrow staircase.

“I’m not going to end up in like, six trash bags tonight, am I?” Emma whispered, only slightly serious. Regina scoffed at her. The further down they went, the warmer Emma felt, and she was beginning to hear muffled music. At the bottom of the steps, there was a black curtain, which Regina pushed through and held aside for Emma, and then one more door. The space they walked into was dimly but warmly lit, and only wide enough to fit them both if they were walking single file. The ceiling was low, and cave like, and the bar stretched from the door and about fifteen seats down, where it curved back to the wall with enough space for one more stool. Emma was surprised to see that most of the seats were occupied. Certainly there weren’t two together, so she was confused when Regina began leading her down the small aisle between the wall and the bar.

She’d overestimated how much space that really was, too. Not only did they have to walk single file, Emma had to angle her body slightly to get by. Even then she still brushed against several people on her way past. She murmured an apology every time; Regina never did. The blonde behind the bar smiled slightly when they came even with her. “What’s your friend drinking tonight, Regina?”

Startled that the woman was so familiar with the brunette, but not really sure why that startled her, Emma stuttered, “Um, I’ll have whatever Regina is having?”

The bartender’s eyebrows lifted. “Are you sure about that?”

Emma stared. Then, out of the corner of her mouth she muttered to the brunette, “I didn’t just order cow’s blood, did I? Are you a vampire?”

She was becoming intimately familiar with Regina’s eye roll by now. “I’m sure she can handle it, Ingrid. Start a tab, if you please.” At the end of the bar and to the opposite side, there was a slim doorway that Emma hadn’t been able to see from the front. Regina led her to it.

“Wait, is that it? Are you a vampire?” Emma snickered at herself, and adopted a dramatically breathy voice. “Your skin is pale white, and ice cold—”

“I sincerely hope you amuse yourself, Miss Swan, because surely you are amusing no one else,” Regina snapped.

“I’m plenty amusing!” Emma defended. But she fell quiet and looked around curiously. The space through the small doorway was wider, but only enough for a row of booths on one side and a few tables in the middle. The lighting was even dimmer in here than it was in the main bar. Emma slid into the booth Regina picked, folding her hands on the table. “In all seriousness, I’m impressed. I didn’t even know any of this stuff was here.”

A faint smile. “Ingrid’s is a very well kept secret.”

“Are there a lot of those around here?” She’d been here a year and never even heard of this place before. She was honestly curious.

Regina thought about it, and then nodded slightly. “A fair few, I guess.”

“Well.” Emma smiled widely, sitting back. “I look forward to figuring them all out.”

“Oh?” One dark, sculpted eyebrow raised at her. “Are you sure you want to?”

Emma studied the other woman seriously. Regina was almost completely impassive in her expression. It was disconcerting, to say the least, until you realized that her eyes gave her away every time. There was a little spark of uncertainty there, which Emma ignored in order to rise to the challenge she saw issued there as well. Easily, she replied, “I love a good mystery.”

A waitress came by and deposited two glasses on their table. She smiled and told them, “Ingrid says these two are on the house.”

Regina scowled. “Absolutely not, Anna.”

“She insists,” the waitress, Anna, said with a shrug. “Because she’s taking your keys in exchange.”

For a moment, Emma was sure that Regina was going to explode. Her eyes were blazing and her lips twisted into an indignant sneer. Emma held her breath, waiting. She found herself impressed by Anna, because it was clear the waitress was bracing for impact, but she never cringed away. Finally, though, Regina blew out her breath and opened her handbag. She dug out her keys and placed them, and then her credit card, gently onto Anna’s tray. The girl brightened and practically skipped away in relief.

Emma studied the two dark drinks left between them on their table suspiciously. “Is this going to make me go blind?”

Regina just smirked, and gestured to the glass in front of Emma. Warily, she put the straw between her lips and sucked. Despite how sweet it was, she immediately choked at the amount of alcohol on her tongue.

Something new happened as she coughed: Regina laughed. Not just the low chuckle or the mean snicker Emma already knew well enough by now, but actually laughed. It didn’t last long, but Emma decided right then and there that it would be worth it to cough her way through this entire drink if it made Regina laugh like that. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand—and this was another thing she was rapidly becoming familiar with, the way Regina rolled her eyes at her when she thought Emma was being childish—and shook her head. “You know,” she started casually. “The first time I met you, you told me you would destroy me. Every time you look at me when we’re on stage together, I’m always pretty convinced you’re about to light me on fire.”

“Are you complaining? Would you rather that be our standard mode of interaction?”

“No, no!” Emma backtracked hastily. “No, this is much better. Though if you could do something about your bitchy sister…”

“No one can do anything about my sister. Anyway, she isn’t the one you need to worry about.” Regina leaned forward and lowered her voice like she was telling a secret. “Mal’s the really scary one.”

Emma blinked. “Really? Because honestly, every time I’ve seen her, she’s had this expression like she’s on a completely different planet from the rest of us.”

“Oh, she is,” Regina agreed. “But we used to call her Dragon.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You people and your ridiculous nicknames. _Your Majesty_.”

“You’re the only one that calls me that.”

“Because you said I couldn’t call you by your name!” Regina shrugged as it it didn’t matter, and Emma flicked a little of the condensation from her glass at her. She took another sip and managed to cough mostly from the back of her throat this time. When she was sure it was over, an awkward silence fell between them. Emma wasn’t quite sure how to start a conversation that didn’t begin with her being silly or teasing, and while it was fun to banter with Regina, it always ended at just banter. And Regina didn’t seem willing to start a conversation herself.

“Perhaps this was a mistake,” Regina finally murmured, when the silence stretched on. “I’m not entirely sure what I was thinking, but clearly—”

“No!” Emma interrupted forcefully, causing the brunette to look up at her in surprise. Flushing, Emma lowered her voice and repeated, gently, “No, it wasn’t a mistake. At least, I don’t think it was. This is what making new friends is like.”

“Friends.” Regina rolled the word around her mouth, like she was testing it. “Is that what’s going on here?”

“I sort of assumed it was,” Emma admitted. “I mean. You came to our show tonight to see me, didn’t you?”

Regina nodded slowly. “Well, yes. I suppose I did. I’m not sure why.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Emma told her firmly. “And since for right now, music is the only thing we know for sure that we have in common, we can talk about that. We’ll figure out what else we have from there.”

“Music.”

“Yep, music,” Emma agreed. “And you can start by telling me whose idea it was to make your grand re-entrance to music by taking over other bands’ shows. Because that is the ballsiest, most douchebaggy thing ever, and you’re pretty much geniuses for thinking of it.” She didn’t ask the question she really wanted to know, because somehow she knew that asking why they’d gone away in the first place would spook Regina. She didn’t want to scare her off right out of the gate.

“We just wanted to make sure we were noticed, when we came back,” Regina explained with a shrug. “There was no more thought to it than that.”

“You could have just come back with a secret show or something,” Emma pointed out. “Made up some new name and surprised the hell out of everyone when it was you.”

“Ah, but this way left people wanting more.” For a moment Regina’s face lit up; she wasn’t quite smiling but there was excitement there. But it was gone quickly. “It used to be thrilling, but it’s getting dull, now. It isn’t as much fun when people expect us.”

“So…” Emma squinted, trying to think of a gentle way of voicing her next thought. But then she realized, this woman probably didn’t want her to pull her punches. She would much prefer a direct conversation than Emma tiptoeing around something that could be sensitive. So Emma just plowed right ahead and asked, “How much truth is there to what Róisín is saying about you guys?”

Regina’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Róisín Ghorm? I try very hard to pretend she’s just a particularly irritating mosquito. What’s she been saying?”

“Mosquito, I like that,” Emma chuckled. “It fits. She doesn’t stop buzzing. She’s been telling anyone that will listen that you only do the one song sets because you don’t have what it takes to keep a crowd entertained for a whole show.”

Regina’s eyes rolled. “Of course she is. We’ve never had a problem with that before, so I don’t anticipate it being a problem now.”

“So what are you actually waiting for, then?”

“That, my dear,” Regina’s voice was slow, thoughtful. “Is a very good question.”

Emma smirked and slapped the table with the palm of her hand. “See? This friends thing is going great! We’ll be braiding each others hair in no time!”

Regina raised an eyebrow. “Touch my hair, and I really _will_ have to destroy you!”

* * *

“If you’re going to puke, don’t do it where the customers can hear you!”

Emma lifted her head and squinted at her boss. Leroy stood in front of her with his arms crossed over his chest, scowling. Very carefully, Emma lifted her head all the way off the counter top and groaned. “I’m not going to puke. But I think I got poisoned last night.”

After that first, initial awkward talk about the Takeovers, conversation between her and Regina flowed much more easily. Of course, that could have had something to do with the fact that Anna was bringing them enough of those toxic cocktails of Regina’s to kill a family of five. There was no way Emma was letting prissy, bitchy Queen Regina out drink her, so Emma matched her drink for drink. She couldn’t even remember what she and Regina had talked about after about her third drink or so, but she did remember that they laughed a lot. And that Regina smiled. Not smirked, not grinned, but _smiled_. Smiled like she did in the photographs, all white teeth and sore cheeks and that little crinkle between her eyebrows. Emma couldn’t remember what she’d said that had made that happen, but she was determined to figure out how to replicate it sober.

She was slightly embarrassed that Ingrid had had to drive them home in Regina’s car. Only because it seemed really important for the other woman—for both women, really—to know that Emma wasn’t normally the kind of person that would get into cars, drunk, with strangers driving. She remembered that Ingrid had just smiled, and asked for her address. The next thing she knew, she was being helped up her stairs.

In the present, Leroy scowled at her harder. “You look like you’re going to puke. Never thought I’d have to tell you not to come to work hungover.”

“Barely making rent,” Emma muttered. “Can’t miss shifts. Did you need something? I’m saving my energy for customers.”

Leroy grunted at her. “Don’t fall asleep. Don’t puke on the counter.” He turned and stomped into the back.

Emma flopped into the chair behind her, letting it roll her to the back counter where they processed returns. She let her head fall slowly back until it rested on the head rest, and closed her eyes. The radio was playing today; Emma had been late, of course, so it was the Bandit again. So far, she didn’t mind too much, because the DJ had played two of the Lost Girls’ covers already this morning. But it was a commercial playing now, she realized with a groan. She’d tuned in half way into the advertisement.

“—ummer concert series every Friday night through August! Each week kicks off a new theme, so come and watch your favorite local band perform live! See our website for more details.”

Almost before the ad ended, Emma’s phone was beeping. She dug it out mostly just to stop it from making noise. She had a new email, from Intern Marian at the Bandit, copied to the rest of the Lost Girls, formally inviting them all to participate in the summer concert in the park series. Emma replied back in the affirmative, not even needing to consult with her band. Sure enough, within the next five minutes she got texts from all the girls, with enthusiastic yeses.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Emma overhears something she shouldn't, and there is exciting news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, guys, we've officially reached the point where this work is not beta-ed. Everything up till now has been done by neworldiscoverer, but from here on, if there's anything fishy, it is entirely my fault.

“So, wait.” In the back seat of the bug, Tina held up one hand. She leaned her head between the two front seats. Emma had been holding out on the details of how her interaction with Regina had actually started, despite the fact that they’d all been together, played shows, even been in another Takeover, since the night Regina took Emma to Ingrid’s. It had been driving the rest of the band crazy, and now that she was finally talking about it, the girls were hooked. “You accidentally walk in on the Queen being weird after a show, and she threatens to destroy you, and your first thought is, _I’m gonna be that lady’s friend?_ ”

Emma grinned. “Yeah. Basically.”

Now that she was actually developing a friendship with the woman, she was more resolved than ever not to tell anyone else about the photo album. Actually, she knew she should just give it back entirely, but she kept talking herself out of it. What if she gave it back and Regina decided never to talk to her again? Or even if she didn’t, there would be a whole mess of awkward explanation she would have to do. Regina had put up with the way Emma stalked her after shows, but this was on a different level. Not to mention, it was pretty obvious that no one outside her band knew that Regina had a son. Emma could think of about a million reasons why that was the case, and she was determined not to be the one to spill the secret.

“So you stalked her,” Ruby added bluntly.

“No, I made sure I found her when I knew she and I were in the same building at the same time,” Emma insisted. “Stalking implies a lot more effort than I actually put into it.”

“You had me figure out about the clues to the Takeovers so that you could talk to her,” Belle pointed out. Sitting next to her, Tina held out her palm for Belle to slap. “Don’t tell me that was ever about us analyzing them in order to play better against them.”

“Okay, no, it wasn’t,” Emma admitted. “But you have to admit that it worked. Or aren’t you the one that got into a slap bass battle with Zelena two nights ago?”

That had been super fun to watch. The look on Zelena’s face when, after their Takeover of the Lost Girls’ show ended, Belle had rallied back with a challenge, had been absolutely priceless. Even better, though, was the look of glee in Regina’s eyes as she watched her sister stumble to meet the challenge. What had followed was ten minutes of intricate finger work and the highest viewed YouTube video since the first Takeover.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us.” Ruby sounded sullen and petulant and Emma had to bite her tongue hard to keep from snapping at her. Ruby was her best friend, Emma reminded herself. It wasn’t her fault that Emma had never stayed in place long enough to form friendships before Storybrooke. She was bound to make a few mistakes in maintaining them along the way.

“I’m sorry,” she said, when shew as sure that the defensive sarcasm was tucked safely away and would not escape unbidden. “I didn’t think. Also, it still feels shaky.”

“Shaky?” Tina rested her cheek on Ruby’s head rest so she could watch Emma’s face while she talked.

“Yeah, I don’t know. Like maybe it wouldn’t take a lot to spook her off. I get the impression that she doesn’t talk to a lot of people outside of the other Regals.”

Ruby still sulked, but her mouth twitched enough that Emma was pretty sure she wasn’t really that upset with her. She put her signal on and pulled into the station’s parking lot. August’s bike was there, by Killian’s big boat of a van, and tucked away in the back, in the parking space under the tree that Emma liked to use, was Regina’s old Mercedes.

“Looks like we’re all here,” she pointed out. “This could be very interesting.”

But when they got inside, they were the only ones there. Intern Ashley was behind the front desk, and she looked up at them with a bright smile.

“Lost Girls!” she spread her arms wide as she walked around the counter. “You made it! Come on back!”

Confused, the Lost Girls followed Intern Ashley through the doors leading to the studios. Through an open door as they passed, Emma saw the Jolly Rogers, sitting at a table with Intern Marian. Intern Marian was leaning into Robin as she pointed to something on the papers between them, and to Emma’s eye it didn’t seem like he minded the contact at all.

Intern Ashely led them into a similar room and presented them each with a small packet of information. When she looked at it, Emma saw it was actually a code of conduct for the concert in the park series. She hadn’t been handed a bullet pointed list of acceptable behaviors since a couple of her more strict foster homes. She raised an incredulous eyebrow at Intern Ashley.

“What the fuck is this?” Ruby asked, flipping through the pages.

The intern winced a little. “The concert in the park is a little different than the cover project,” she explained. “It’s a city event that the station sponsors and donates the use of equipment to. It’s a free of charge, public event, which means kids and families.”

“And you don’t want the talent traumatizing all the little kiddos,” Ruby finished. Her red tipped index finger tapped down on one of the bulleted instructions. “I’m going to have to borrow clothes from the Queen of Flannel over there.” She waved her hand in Emma’s direction.

Emma self consciously pulled at the sleeves of her shirt. She sneered at her best friend. “Fuck off, Princess Cameltoe, it’s comfortable!”

Intern Ashley winced again, and Belle gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll have Emma’s mouth sorted by then.”

“I have a shock collar at home,” Tina volunteered cheerfully. When every eye in the room turned to her, she wavered uncertainly. “What?”

“You don’t have a dog,” Emma told her.

“But I _could!_ I _could_ have a dog!”

Everyone blinked, unsure of what to say, until the silence became uncomfortable. Then Intern Ashley giggled a little awkwardly. “Well, okay then! I’ll give you a few minutes to read through the packet and then we can talk about how the concert actually runs. I’ll get you some pens so you can sign when you’re finished reading.”

The intern scampered off, leaving the Lost Girls to their reading. Her quick skim had shown Emma the gist of it—no excessive cursing, no inappropriate dress, don’t do anything freaky on stage, and so on and so forth—so she put the packet down and walked to the door. “Bathroom,” she explained when everyone stared.

The station’s set up wasn’t exactly labyrinthian, yet all the same, Emma got turned around trying to find the nearest bathroom. She was much more familiar with the back of the station, where the recording booths were, so she headed that way rather than risk getting herself lost someplace she wasn’t supposed to be.

It was when she was washing her hands that she heard the commotion outside. It started off as indistinct bickering, and slowly coalesced into three separate voices. Two of them Emma had never heard before, a man and a woman, and one that was all too familiar to her: Zelena Mills.

“I cannot believe the pair of you!” Zelena’s voice was sharp and high; she was seething. “What on earth possessed you? Were you even going to tell me?”

“Well, _no_ , dearie,” the man said. “That was the entire point of the thing.”

“You’re overreacting, Zelena.” This voice was smooth and low; it was not at all the way Emma thought Mal’s voice would sound. Because of course that’s who these people were, she was sure. The other two Evil Regals.

“Overreacting, Mal?” Zelena snapped, confirming Emma’s assumption. “You know this will be too much. She isn’t ready. We have a _plan._ You can’t just do things like this!”

That hit Emma like a slap across the face. There was no one else they could be talking about but Regina. Emma turned the tap off and tiptoed closer to the door to hear better.

“I don’t know anything of the sort, Zelena,” Mal hissed back. “And you aren’t giving her near the credit she is due.”

“Everything is still too overwhelming.” Zelena was still angry, but she also sounded a little desperate too. She hasn’t had enough time.”

“There will never be enough time,” Gold interrupted, condescending. “And the only way to move forward is to _move._ Perhaps you simply need to get out of the way.”

There was a feral snarl and then scuffling. Gold made a sound like a manic giggle and then there was a thump, probably just to the side of the door that Emma was behind.

“That is enough!” Yeah, Mal’s voice was much sharper than Emma had expected, coming as it did from someone that looked like she was high half of the time. There was a half grunting, half snarling sound, and then Mal’s voice continued sternly. “She may not be ready but she is bored, and that may very well be worse.” A heavy sigh. “We are all bored, Zelena. You included.”

There was a very long silence. Then, resigned, “I know. I am just worried.”

“We all are,” Mal assured.

“I’m not,” Gold interrupted. “She’s going to do what she’s going to do and none of us can stop her.”

“We are all worried except Gold,” Mal amended. “Because he is an emotionless reptile. But she’s not thanking us for these restrictions. Our plan needs adjustment.”

“I know that too.” Zelena sighed one final time. “Very well. But for the love of green apples, not this. I can’t abide the smell of fair food.”

Mal and Gold both snickered.

“This might backfire badly,” Zelena warned.

“And that is nothing new.” Gold was rolling his eyes, Emma could hear it. “You Mills women are famously unstable.”

Zelena squawked a protest but they were moving away now, so if there were more words, Emma didn’t hear what they were. She leaned heavily against the door, unable to make heads or tails of what she’d just heard. It was an interesting conundrum, to say the least, since now she had to decide whether or not she was going to tell Regina about what she had heard. She wanted not to lie to the other woman; she was also keenly aware of the hypocrisy in that, since she was keeping the fact that she’d found the photo album a secret. This accidental eavesdropping only strengthened that resolve too. She didn’t want to confess, because if Regina became angry at what she’d kept from her, it would ruin their budding friendship. And the longer she kept it, the worse the potential fallout became. Perhaps someday she could find a way to sneak the book back into Regina’s possession and keep her none the wiser, but for now it was Emma’s secret. And selfishly, she didn’t want to give it back because she enjoyed looking at it. She loved seeing Regina’s smiles, and she was coming to care for the boy whose name she didn’t even know, just based on him being the reason for those smiles. She couldn’t wait until Regina trusted her enough to allow her to meet him.

But keeping the book a secret was the reason she wanted—needed, even—to be honest in everything else. Secrets and lies had a tendency to stack, one on top of the other, like Jenga blocks. Emma knew this, and had learned the hard, painful way that one careless tug could topple the whole tower. She did not want to fall into the habit of lying again. It would be much too easy to slip back into those old habits, and once she did, it would only spread to the rest of her life. The book was the only secret she could safely keep.

“Well, fuck,” she muttered, when she realized she’d already made her decision. Now she just had to keep her resolve and not chicken out. And not press Regina for answers she might not be ready to give when she did inform her of this conversation.

Also, she really needed to get Regina’s phone number. Because their system of communication was ridiculous.

* * *

“Emma.” August stage whispered from where he was sitting at the base of the stereo. “Emma, quick. You need to get to the counter.”

Emma frowned at August, who was sitting in the middle of a messy spread of hand written lists and spreadsheets as he tried to make sense of Leroy’s inventory system. He jerked his head at the door. “Seriously, go stand at the register before Mena notices and beats you there.”

Emma automatically craned her neck, looking for their two toned coworker. The woman was still on the upper level with Leroy, helping him set up a new display in the vinyl section, but customers came first and he would let her go if she was the only one available to help at the register. Mena had come in with a bug up her ass right from the start, and Emma was pretty sure that if they let her talk to anyone other than Leroy, who was really the only one that could deal with her attitude, she would end up making someone cry. And, possibly, bleed.

But Emma was busy with her own display and she hadn’t heard the bell ring yet. “Give me a minute.”

“No, Emma, I am pretty sure Mena will actually jump off the balcony to have a shot at who is about to come into this store,” August insisted. “I would do it but this is a mess. Please?”

Curious now, Emma scooted backwards till she had a clear shot of the door. “Holy shit!”

“Watch your mouth!” Emma’s exclamation had been loud enough to draw Leroy’s attention, and by extension Mena’s too. Emma saw Mena look to see what was outside that had surprised Emma so, and then she watched the woman’s expression change into one of pure, devious glee. Emma leapt off the floor so quickly she sent a stack of CDs sliding across the ground, and half walked and half ran to the register just as Zelena and Mal stopped loitering in front of the store and came inside.

She ducked around the register and leaned on the counter, watching the two women progress their way through the store. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Leroy snag Mena by the sleeve and drag her, extremely reluctantly, back to their task. Satisfied that she’d only have to deal with two bitchy women instead of three, as long as she didn’t let Zelena and Mal linger, Emma steeled herself for another encounter with Regina’s sister. August was trying to subtly gather his papers so he could scoot around to the other side of the stereo.

“Wimp,” Emma mouthed at him.

“Too much aggressive estrogen,” he mouthed back, before turning his back on her completely.

The two Regals made took their time walking to the counter where Emma was standing. Zelena had a sneer twisting her lips; Emma was pretty sure she’d never seen Zelena make a pleasant expression, even when she was playing. All focused intensity, that one, and when she had an instrument in her hands, it was even more so. Mal, on the other hand, was a stark contrast to that. Her gaze flitted lazily from wall to wall, sleepy eyes taking in displays. She ran her finger lightly over some of the tables, looking at everything but not really seeming to see anything.

They reached the counter, and Emma eyed them warily. She looked up, at where Mena was still casting her eyes at them over her shoulder. Zelena followed her gaze, her eyes lighting up in manic glee when she saw who was glaring at them from over the top of Leroy’s head. She nudged Mal and pointed, and Mal met Mena’s eyes. Mena looked like a rabid dog, foaming at the mouth for a good fight, and for a moment Emma was sure this was going to end in bloodshed. But then Mal’s mouth opened wide and she yawned, obviously and pointedly, before looking back at Emma. Her demeanor perked up a little, and Emma couldn’t help but swallow nervously. What was it that Neal had said about Mal? That she probably thought he would taste good with ketchup?

Yeah. She totally understood what he meant now.

“You aren’t going to bait her into trying to decapitate you with the vinyl, are you?” she finally asked. “Because if there is any way you could wait till after my shift is over to do that, that would be great.”

Behind the stereo, August bit out a laugh. Mal stared at her for a moment, blank, before her lips slowly turned up. She leaned over to Zelena and murmured, “You didn’t tell me she was funny.”

“Because she _isn’t_.” Zelena smiled at Emma as she spoke.

“To be fair, this is only the second time you’ve spoken to me,” Emma pointed out. “And the first time really shouldn’t count because you were clearly crazy and irrational and I was only defending myself, so there was hardly time to showcase my amazing sense of humor.” As she spoke, Mal’s smile grew wider, till all of her teeth were showing. Emma shuddered a little; Regina’s friends—well, friend and sister—were unsettling to the extreme. Again, Mal leaned into Zelena as she said, “She’s definitely funny.”

“Yes, great, I’m funny.” Emma rolled her eyes. “Are you here for a reason or are you just going to death match Mena in the lobby?”

“As fun as that sounds,” Mal cut Zelena off as she was drawing breath for what would no doubt be a scathing reply. Emma was more than happy to have the blonde take over the conversation; now that she’d decided that Emma was funny, she was getting fuzzy again. Her eyes kept drifting away from Emma’s face. She reached into the bag against Zelena’s hip and drew out a small stack of papers. She slid them across the counter. “Be a dear and put those up for us.”

Then the two women were turning and leaving the store, or rather, Mal was turning and she was dragging Zelena with her. Zelena glared at Emma as long as she was able, till they were both out of the store and out of sight. August burst into laughter, crawling around the stereo and into sight again. Through his laughter, he asked, “Did you really just call one of the Evil Regals crazy and irrational?”

“She is,” Emma replied absently. She was studying one of the fliers Mal had handed her. “August, come look at this.”

He climbed to his feet, coming to peer over her shoulder. His laughter stopped abruptly, and he snatched the paper from Emma’s hand. “Woah. This is way overdue. Is this real?”

Emma took another flier and squinted at it. At the top, right under the Evil Regals’ logo, there was a date and time and location. A photo of the band under all that. “Uh, yeah. I guess it is.”

August leaned against the back counter, still looking at the flier. “Well, it’s about time the Evil Regals joined the rest of us at the adult’s table.”

“Yeah,” Emma murmured; she was lost in thought. If she’d been paying more attention, she couldn’t have passed up on that perfect opening August had left for her to tease him.

“I hope they fall on their regal asses,” he continued, oblivious to Emma’s inattention. “Just this first time, that’s all. Just really nose dive into the ground.”

“Mm,” Emma agreed absently, not really listening to August at all. She kept the flyer in her hand, and reached under the counter for her phone. Ignoring August outright now, she tapped out a message to her band.

_Big news. Meet tonight @ 7. Granny’s._

* * *

They met at Granny’s so Ruby could sit with them on her break. The rest of the band was already there when Emma came in, sharing a huge order of fries between them. Ruby was trying to snatch fries out of Belle’s hand when Emma came in and slid into a chair across from Tina.

“Look at this,” she said without preamble, pushing the flier at them. While they all leaned over it, Emma slid Ruby’s plate of A-1 steak sauce over and dunked a couple of fries in it for herself. At the end of her chewing, she clarified, aloud and unnecessarily, “The Regals are all set up for their first full show in three weeks at the Broken Clock.”

Ruby cheered. “About damn time! We are so going to this!”

“August said he hopes they crash and burn,” Emma mentioned, taking the paper back when it got dangerously close to the ketchup plate.

“Anything is possible, I suppose,” Belle murmured. Everyone stopped and stared. When she noticed, Belle just shrugged. “Well, they have been gone a very long time, and they haven’t done a full length set yet. They might choke.”

“Yes. Of course they will. And I will also sprout wings and fly around this room like a tiny little fairy.” Tina rolled her eyes. “You don’t seriously think they’re not up to it?”

“No, of course they are,” Belle said immediately. “All I’m saying is that you never know. There has to be a reason they stopped performing.”

Emma leaned back in her chair. “Well, maybe we’ll find out what it is in three weeks.”

“There’s only one way to know for sure,” Ruby decided. “All I know is that I would have to be dead to miss this show.”

“Agreed,” Emma nodded. Then she smirked. “Mal literally yawned in Mena’s face when they dropped these off. Legit could not be bothered. Steam came out of Mena’s ears. It was a thing of beauty.”

“I have fifteen minutes before I need to be back in the kitchen. Tell us everything.”

So Emma dunked another couple of fries and settled in to gossip.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Lost Girls can't agree on anything, and Emma thinks too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I can't keep on a schedule, guys. I'm trying, but obviously I'm failing. But however long between updates, I am completely committed to finishing this. It will not be abandoned.

All the yelling was beginning to give Emma the worst headache. Well, they weren’t exactly yelling so much as they were whispering very fiercely at one another. If they had been anywhere but the diner, they probably would have been shouting over each other constantly. The public setting kept them from that, at least. But the arguing was constant and uncompromising and they were getting no where with it. Tina and Ruby were at one another’s throats, and Belle, bless her, was trying so hard not to lose patience with both of them. Emma had long since lost that ability and now she was just trying to keep her mouth shut. It was becoming harder, though, because they were rapidly running out of fries to stuff her face with.

She was beginning to regret ever agreeing to this concert in the park thing. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, and they had been thrilled with their theme, Women of Rock, when they first got it. Now, Emma wasn’t so sure. She’d assumed it would be easy to put together a couple of hours of music, but when they actually sat down to plan, they could agree on _nothing_. Tina wanted modern rock music, Ruby wanted to pay tribute to classic rock, and Belle was insistent that they keep it relevant and fun with a more pop rock sound. Emma was just concerned that they wouldn’t be able to find anything in their own library of music that wasn’t too vulgar for a PG audience. Also—

“I’m not singing Walk Like An Egyptian,” she insisted for what felt like the hundredth time. “I love the Bangles as much as the next girl but I am not singing that song!”

“How is this different from Cyndi Lauper? Who you _just_ agreed we could use!” Belle demanded. “You’ll sing her but not the Bangles?”

“Yes!” Emma agreed, stubbornly refusing to see the point.

“How about we play none of that shit because that’s not our sound and focus on groups that _are_?”

Tina pointed at Ruby. “What she said!”

“We’re not playing Evanescence,” Ruby immediately turned on her would be ally, unwilling to accept the support when she knew that it would just bring them back to this place anyway. “I would rather stick my picks under my fingernails than play that crap!”

Tina eyed Ruby critically. Ruby crossed her arms and glared back.

“Don’t do it, Tink,” Belle warned.

“It’s not worth it,” Emma added.

Tina put her hands on the table and leaned forward, holding Ruby’s eyes. Smirking, she said, “Lacuna Coil only got popular in the US because Evanescence broke the ice for them.”

Ruby let out a vicious snarl and lunged across the table for the blonde. Belle wrapped her arms around Ruby’s waist and tried to pull her away, but the guitarist was out of control, thrashing in Belle’s hold. Tina cackled while she watched, and Emma just sat back with a sign and let it happened, because she was so done trying to control this circus. She let her band try to kill each other in favor of people watching out the window and letting her mind wander.

Storybrooke was smaller than any place she’d lived before, so she recognized a lot of the people walking by, in that vague, everyone looks familiar when you see them at the grocery store every week kind of way. That was supremely odd to her, because it meant that people probably recognized her, too. And not from the Lost Girls, but also in the maybe I see you at the grocery store every week way. How many people a day looked at her walking by and thought she looked familiar? For someone that had previously thrived on anonymity, it was unsettling.

Across the street, a group of teenage girls galloped by, so animated amongst themselves that Emma almost missed the sedate brunette that trailed after them. Even when she did notice, she was so out of character that it took Emma a few minutes to realize that it was Regina. She had her arms wrapped around her middle and she was kind of tucked into herself, like she was trying not to be noticed. On stage, she had such a huge presence that it was easy to forget the fact that physically, she was actually pretty small.

Her band was still arguing, so Emma didn’t say anything to them as she stood from their table. She made it to the door without being noticed; pulling it open, though, made the bell above it ring, and she heard Ruby’s angry voice following her out. “Dammit Emma! Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Emma flipped her off right before the door closed on them, and sprinted across the street. Regina was nearly at the corner now, so Emma raised her voice to call out, “Hey, wait! Regina! Wait up!”

The brunette startled almost violently at the call of her name, whirling around with a hand over her heart. When she saw that it was only Emma, though, she sagged in relief and paused to let Emma catch up to her.

“Hey,” Emma panted when she did reach the woman. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Indeed,” Regina agreed, amused. “It is almost like we live in the same town.”

“Please,” Emma scoffed. “You’re so mysterious, I’m not taking anything for—oh, shit! Let’s walk.” She looped her arm through Regina’s and tugged.

Regina craned her head around to see what had Emma so alarmed. Her eyes widened when she saw Ruby and Tina charging across the street, looking thunderous.

“Oh my,” the brunette murmured, staring. Emma tugged at her again when it seemed like her feet had frozen, until finally she managed to convince the woman to walk with her. The problem was, the streets in Storybrooke weren’t exactly crowded, so there was no way to lose themselves from sight. Emma walked them faster, looking for an escape and finding none. Regina huffed, and suddenly took charge. She yanked them into a store Emma had never been in before, and quickly pulled them behind a bookshelf.

“Where the hell?” Emma whispered, and then wondered why she was whispering.

“Christian bookstore,” Regina whispered back, widening her eyes and smirking. “They’ll never think to look for you in here.”

Emma laughed. “Good thinking.” Although now they had the new problem of the woman behind the counter glaring at them suspiciously. She nudged Regina and tilted her head at the dour looking lady. “I think she’s waiting for us to burst into flames or something.”

Regina glanced over, then smirked a little. Casually, tugging Emma along by their linked arms, she began to peruse the aisles slowly. She trailed her fingers down the spines of books as though she were reading their titles, and occasionally she tilted one towards herself, like she was looking at the cover. As they wandered, Regina inquired, “Why are we hiding from your band?”

“Oh, um…I sort of ditched them when I saw you. We’re supposed to be figuring out a lineup for that park thing.”

Regina didn’t look at her, but Emma saw her eyes widen just a little. The other woman untangled her arm from Emma’s and reached up to slide a slim volume out from the shelf. She turned it over in her hands.

“We were actually just fighting,” Emma clarified, frowning at the loss of contact. “Turns out, ‘women of rock’ isn’t as awesome of a theme as we thought it would be.”

“Oh.” Regina put the book back and picked up Emma’s wrist to lead them to the next aisle. She didn’t let go once they got there. “And what seems to be the problem?”

Emma rocked back on her heels. “It’s just kind of like…Belle said nebulous, actually. Do we do classic rock, or modern rock? Metal or pop or punk or what? Did you know that if you do a google search of basically just ‘top women in rock’ the first result is a list that includes Joan Jett and and Barbara Streisand? Like, right next to each other too.” Regina stared, and Emma threw up her free hand in exasperation. “I know, right? It makes me think that people don’t even know what rock music is, at least not when women are involved. So then we had to start thinking, if we do a PJ Harvey song, are people even going to know who that is? Belle thinks we need to keep it relevant and play stuff people recognize, so she wants us to do a lot of the Bangles and the Go-Gos and shit, which is great music but _not_ our style. Tink wants to do modern stuff, but name five bands with women lead singers that get played on rock stations today. Bet you only come up with three, and I bet one of them is Evanescence, which Ruby is violently against playing. She wants to do classic rock. I think she really just wants to, like, magically transform into Lita Ford.”

“Sounds exhausting,” Regina murmured, giving Emma’s wrist a squeeze.

“Thank you! It is!” Emma blew out a breath. “We can’t agree on anything. Ruby was actively trying to murder Tink across our table. I saw you and just bolted.”

She was pretty sure that Regina flushed at that, and that made Emma grin in satisfaction. She pulled at where the other woman was still holding onto her, pulling her across the aisle to where the Bibles were.

“Why do you call her Tink?”

Emma smirked. “That’s kind of funny, actually. You ever read Peter Pan?”

Regina grimaced, so quickly Emma almost missed it. The expression was soon smoothed into Regina’s usual mask of vague interest, though, and the woman just shook her head. “I’ve seen the movie, however. I do understand that it’s a Tinkerbell reference.”

“Yeah, but movie Tinkerbell is just a jealous bitch, and that’s not our Tink at all,” Emma explained. “But in the book, Tinkerbell is a little different. She’s too small to experience more than one emotion at a time. Tina’s kind of like that, she bounces from one emotion to another like a psychotic child. It’s actually adorable. You should see her when she’s angry.”

“Wasn’t she just angry with you?” Regina pointed out. She was fiddling with the small cross shaped zipper pull of a leather bound Bible, twisting it in her fingers and unzipping and zipping the top of the book absently. A pointed cough had them both glancing back over at the glaring cashier. Regina’s eyes glinted.

“Angry at someone else, someone not me,” Emma clarified. “What are you going to do with that?”

Regina had taken the Bible and tucked it under her arm. She looked at it, then at Emma, and shrugged a little. “See if she refuses to sell it to me.”

“What if she doesn’t? Refuse, I mean.”

“Then I guess I’ll have a new Bible.”

Emma followed the other woman to the counter. “Are you religious?”

“Not in the slightest,” Regina confided in a low tone. “But it’s a lovely book, don’t you think?” She held the small book in front of them both. It didn’t look that special to Emma; it didn’t even have any engraving or embossing on its plain dark leather cover. Aside from the zipper pull, there was nothing to even distinguish what the book was. Regina was absently stroking her thumb along the spine, though, fascinated by the slightly bumpy leather. “Leather covers are…my favorite.”

She approached the counter, and Emma watched the clerk have what appeared to be a moral debate with herself. Finally, she either decided that she couldn’t be responsible for damning Regina’s soul, or she just didn’t want to get into trouble for refusing to sell merchandise, because she rang it up and put it into a paper sack.

“I should think the coast is probably clear by now. Don’t you?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Emma eyed the bag dangling from Regina’s fingertips, which she already seemed to have forgotten about. “You’re really strange, did you know that?”

Regina only smiled vaguely in response. Once out on the not-so-busy street again, she tucked herself as close to Emma as possible without touching her, and kept her eyes either trained in front of her, or on Emma’s face. She refused to look at anyone that passed them. In an abrupt change of topic, and switching to Emma’s other side to avoid completely a mother and her young son walking the other way, she asked, “So you’re doing the park thing, then?”

Emma shrugged. “Yeah. Might as well. A gig is a gig and at some point, we’d like to be making enough money to maybe tour the state. Or, like, the tri-county area at the very least.”

“There’s nothing in the tri-county area,” Regina deadpanned.

“There’s other shitty towns.” Emma turned and walked backwards so she could look at Regina as she enthused. “And then, when we play one shitty town, instead of coming back to this shitty town, we could drive to the next shitty town and play there.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“That I am.” Emma nodded proudly. “Hey, so, guess who I saw at work the other day?” Regina just stared at her, so Emma did a little hopping step and gestured with her arms while she answered herself, “Your crazy sister and very strange drummer!”

Regina’s brow furrowed. “That’s right, Mal said. She likes you.”

“She thinks I’m funny.” Emma shook her head. “But good news, they dropped off all these fliers that I’m pretty sure mean you’re finished ambushing other people’s shows? Good decision!”

“I decided nothing,” Regina admitted candidly. “Mal and Gold did it all. Zelena reluctantly agreed. I was informed after the fact. It was actually quite infuriating.”

Emma stopped, suddenly uncomfortable, and Regina latched onto her shoulder to keep from stumbling. Emma sighed. “Yeah, so…there’s probably something I need to tell you about that.”

Regina’s brow lifted. “Oh, this bodes well.” When Emma blew out a frustrated breath, Regina sighed and demanded sharply, “Just tell me.”

Emma sighed again, and gathered her courage. Slowly, she told Regina what she’d heard between her band mates. At the end, she defended weakly, “I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh, it’s hardly your fault that my sister has all the subtlety of a—” the brunette cut herself off with a sharp shake of her head. “It doesn’t matter. Trying to pull my strings is an old habit of Zelena’s. I suppose she means well.”

“Yeah,” Emma murmured awkwardly. “I’m glad you’re not upset that I was eavesdropping.”

“Well, I won’t lie and say that I’m pleased, since they made me sound crazy.” Regina sighed. “I suppose that I am, a bit.”

Emma shrugged, and touched Regina’s elbow, encouraging them to begin walking again. “You seem pretty okay to me. Intense, but okay. I think it’s normal for things to get overwhelming sometimes.”

“I don’t mean for it to happen…” Regina had this look on her face, something Emma couldn’t quite interpret. She kept her own expression neutral; she didn’t want to give any reason for the other woman to think she was judging her, or mocking her. Truly, Emma really did kind of think they were all a little crazy anyway. They had to be, to stand in front of people and scream angry lyrics at them the way they did.

Regina shook her head again, her eyes refocusing. With an apologetic smile, she switched topics. “How long do you have to prepare a set?”

“Oh, weeks still,” Emma waved a hand. “It’s why I’m not worried yet. We’ve got time. Actually, I was thinking that I might check out the first concert of the series. It’s this Friday. Some out of town band is coming, and I’ve never really—oh, hey! You want to come with me?”

Regina blinked in surprise. “To a concert?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” Emma enthused. “And a nice change of pace from having our own bands involved every time we hang out.”

“Well, I—” Regina blinked again. “Yes. I would like that. Very much.”

“Excellent! It’s a date!” Emma grinned. “Give me your phone number and I’ll text you the details later, okay? This is going to be great.”

* * *

Later that evening, Emma was sharing the living room with Mary Margaret and David, completely spaced out while Mary Margaret told her all about the animal shelter she and David were volunteering at this summer. She was trying to pay attention, she really was, but she was just too lost in her own thoughts.

Finally, David silenced his girlfriend with a slowly raised hand. Turning a concerned eye toward the singer, he asked, “Are you alright, Emma?”

Emma startled, then flushed guiltily. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry! Go on.” She widened her eyes and looked dutifully at her roommate. “I’m listening. I promise.”

Mary Margaret frowned at her. “No, you’ve been distracted all night. What’s going on?”

“It’s not a big deal. I was just thinking.”

“About what?” David prompted her, every bit as concerned for her as Mary Margaret. They really were the most perfect, charming little couple. And with as much practice as they were apparently getting in on her, they were going to be great parents someday.

“Regina,” she admitted with a sigh, not missing the way her two friends exchanged glances. “I saw her today. We talked, and…” She trailed off, uncertain about where she was going or even if she wanted to say it out loud.

“And what?” Great, now they were both staring at her. And so damn earnestly too. She didn’t want to tell them what she’d overheard at the radio station but there was no way she was going to be able to leave this conversation without telling them something. They’d eventually guilt something out of her, no matter how much she deflected. They were good at that. She sighed, resigned.

“I don’t know, I just… When you were kids, Mary Margaret, did Regina ever have trouble with, like, anxiety or whatever?”

Mary Margaret frowned again. “Why would you ask that?”

“I don’t really know. It’s just that we were talking and she said some things, and I just thought maybe that’s got to do with them disappearing and— You know what, it’s crazy. Never mind.”

“I don’t think it’s crazy.”

Emma looked up. “You don’t?”

Mary Margaret shook her head. “No. It actually would make a lot of sense to me. I told you we weren’t friends, she didn’t tell me things, but I saw a little of her life and… Well, her mother wasn’t an easy woman. She had certain, rigid ideas for how Regina’s life should be.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, I got a little bit of that the last time we talked about her.”

Mary Margaret smiled a little. “Mrs. Mills put a lot of pressure on her daughters. They were always competing with one another. They had so many lessons and activities she made them do. Regina had to be in all the advanced classes in school, and she had to maintain perfect grades, and her mother expected her to look a certain way and to be seen by certain people and— Yes, Emma, I could see very easily anxiety being something Regina struggles with.”

“That causes nervous breakdowns sometimes, right?”

“If not properly treated, then yes, sometimes it can.”

Emma sighed heavily. “I think that happened to one of my foster mothers once.” She scrunched up her face, trying to remember. “I was only seven or so, but I remember them because they had their own kid, too, and we all had to have game night with them once a week, the fosters and the real kid alike. One day I was picked up by my case worker after school. They took me and the two other foster kids back to the group home. But the really weird part was that CPS took the biological kid too.”

“That makes sense, if she was violent,” David told her. As a cop he sometimes saw things like that. “She was probably a danger to herself, more than you. But—”

“That’s pretty much what we overheard at the home,” Emma confirmed. “She was hospitalized for a while and then I heard later that the bio kid got to go back eventually. But they didn’t take any more foster kids in. I already had a new place anyway.”

“I’m sorry, Emma.”

Ah, god. There it was. Emma scowled; she hated the soft, pitying tone Mary Margaret got whenever they discussed her past experience with the system. She hated the way David got awkward and uncertain and treated her with kid gloves. She just hated all of it.

“No,” she said harshly. “That wasn’t the point. The point is, is, I don’t even know what the point is right now but it isn’t that!”

David held his hands up soothingly, which only made Emma grit her teeth together. “Hey, hey. We’re sorry! We didn’t mean anything.”

Emma shut her eyes and breathed in through her nose, and exhaled loudly through her mouth. She waved them off when they tried to speak again, and did it a few more times. Finally she just said, “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“Emma—”

Emma’s eyes popped open and she smiled widely at them. “No, it’s really fine, okay? Let’s talk about the animal shelter some more.”

She stared at them blandly until the awkward silence became too much for them to bear. Mary Margaret cleared her throat, and picked up where she’d left off. Emma didn’t pay any more attention than she had before, though. She was still too busy thinking about Regina.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Emma worries too much, and she and Regina talk. And flirt.

In the days leading up to the first of the park concerts, Emma found herself actually becoming nervous about the whole thing. All things considered, she hadn’t really had that many interactions with her rival singer, and this would only be the second time that they’d been around one another for more than twenty minutes. And the first time had involved an insane amount of alcohol. This time, there would be none of that. The concerts were a public, family event, and was therefore also a dry event. She had no doubt that to a lot of people that would just mean BYOB and Emma did entertain doing that herself. But that would mean she’d need a cooler, and ice, and then she’d have to lug the damn thing with them, and in the end that was a lot more effort than she wanted to put into it. So she’d suck it up and act like a goddamn adult and just make sure that they had plenty to talk about.

But then that ended up being a whole new source of worry, because what did she and Regina even have in common outside of music? She felt a little hypocritical even caring, since she’d told Regina early on that they’d find things along the way, but she couldn’t help it. Between her actual interactions with Regina—and even Zelena, to an extent, because for all that they didn’t look anything alike, the way they spoke told Emma clearly that they’d had the same upbringing for sure—combined with the conversations she’d had with Mary Margaret, she knew that they had had very different pasts. Regina was well educated and well spoken and Emma had a feeling she knew all manner of things Emma had probably never even heard of. Emma was a high school dropout with exactly one skill in life. What the hell did she have to talk about?

Still, she texted Regina details on where to meet and at what time, and the other woman’s response was positive, so Emma was locked in. Not that she didn’t want to go. She did. She was just also pretty sure it was gonna be awkward and weird because she was good at making things awkward and weird. On Wednesday, Regina asked her if she should bring anything like chairs, or drinks, and Emma refused the offer before she’d really thought about why she was refusing, just knowing that she wanted to be the one providing anything they might need that night. Anyway, it wasn’t like she really expected Regina to listen to her anyway. She seemed like the sort of woman who would do exactly as she pleased no matter what she was told.

Slowly, she worked herself up into a fine panic. It simmered at a low level constantly, always in the back of her mind as she went about her normal business. And all Emma really wanted to do was talk to Ruby about it. But Ruby was still pissed at her for running out on them, and only spoke to Emma in curt, short tones. Besides which, they were all still bickering over this stupid concert lineup. Their Wednesday night band practice was a nightmare—of course, Emma had been mostly thinking about whether or not she should bring drinks for her and Regina, even if that did mean getting a cooler to pack them in, because didn’t they make small ones with straps that would probably be okay to cart around with them if they had to walk?—and her distraction just let Ruby and Tina pick and pick at one another until even Belle had had enough and snapped at them all. That had drawn Emma out of her head, because Belle was infinitely patient with them, and if she was stressed then things were bad. But when she tried to join her voice with Belle’s, Belle had turned on her and then all _three_ of Emma’s band mates were scolding her for abandoning them at the diner. She’d taken it stoically but had refused to tell them what she’d ditched them for (she wasn’t stupid, she knew how well that would be received, and she wasn’t all that keen on starting another screaming match), and the whole incident just reinforced Emma’s self-imposed isolation when Thursday found her low level simmering panic slowly coming to a boil.

She spent all day Thursday snapping at August and Leroy and customers till Leroy finally banished her to the back room with Mena, and of course _that_ was a complete disaster. It took Mena all of ten seconds to lock onto Emma’s bad mood and bait her into a fight, and the next thing Emma knew, August was holding her back from grabbing Mena’s skunk ugly hair and shaking the crazy bitch like a rag doll. Mena just cackled at her the whole time, and Leroy sent them both home. Emma skipped the band meeting they were supposed to be having that night, locked herself in her room, and curled up on her bed with her battered old acoustic on her lap, rasping out old southern rock songs till her voice quit halfway through Copperhead Road and she had to go drink half a gallon of water. By that time there were more than twenty voicemails and text messages on her phone checking up on her, from Neal and Killian, and both of them together, and August, and Belle and Mary Margaret, and Ruby, though she was just as testy with Emma through text as she was when they spoke, so Emma deleted that one out of spite. There was a message from Regina, too, and damn did word spread fast if even the Evil Regals had heard about Emma’s meltdown. Regina, though, just told her that next time she should be quicker, because they all needed to be saved from Mena’s terrible fashion choices. That had her chuckling, and suddenly she felt much better than she had all day. The confusion and panic that had built up over the course of the week didn’t go away, but it did level out, and held steady.

Finally, Friday afternoon came and Emma found herself sitting on her bed, with over half of her wardrobe strewn on the mattress behind her. She wasn’t quite sure what she was doing, trying on every piece of clothing she owned like she wasn’t going to just put on a pair of skinny jeans and a flannel shirt over a tank top anyway. Shaking her head at herself, that was exactly what she did, making sure the flannel wasn’t too worn out and thin, because even though it was summer, it got cool when the sun went down. Along that line, she grabbed a blanket from her closet; red wool with a black line at one end, too itchy to use on her bed, but good for spreading on the ground even if everything was gonna stick to it where it touched the grass. Maybe she should have told Regina to bring chairs; that sure as shit wasn’t something Emma had lying around the apartment. What use did she have for lawn chairs anyway?

She was tying the laces to her mismatched Chucks when a key in the front door caught her attention. Mary Margaret came in and dropped her purse on the small table by the door. She caught Emma’s eye and raised an eyebrow.

“Heading out?”

“Concert in the park,” Emma said shortly. “Recon.”

“Do you have time to talk?” Mary Margaret stepped closer. “Ruby called me, and she’s con—”

“Actually I’m meeting someone and I’m going to be late,” Emma interrupted, bouncing to her feet and gathering the blanket up. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

Mary Margaret looked startled as Emma pushed past her. As she started to clomp down the stairs, her roommate rushed to the top of them and called after her, “Tell Neal I said hello!”

Emma didn’t bother correcting her, just raised her hand over her head as she descended out of sight. On the street, she dumped the blanket into the passenger seat of her car and with shaking hands turned the key in the ignition.

“God,” she muttered. “Calm down. It’s just music.”

She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, till her knuckles turned white and her hands stopped shaking. Satisfied, she pulled into the street.

She was late, of course. Even though she had left right on time, she’d forgotten to fill her tank, so she had to stop for gas. Regina’s car was exactly where she’d promised it would be when they arranged their meeting place, and Emma could see Regina in it, looking at something in her hands as she waited. She pulled the Bug up next to the old Mercedes. Regina didn’t notice, not at first, not till Emma was standing at her door, knocking on her window with her knuckles. The brunette startled, and hastily shut whatever book she was reading—Emma couldn’t quite make out what it was, but it had a leather cover, so perhaps the Bible she’d bought the other day?—and stuffed it between the seats. She looked at Emma as though she were surprised to see her, and stepped out of her car, biting her lip and smoothing the slightly frayed skirt of her dress, a simple black thing with long sleeves that came down in a point on the back of her hands.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

That seemed to be all either of them needed. In that moment they both released long, quiet breaths, and Emma felt all the nerves and tension she’d built up in the last few days melt away. She still didn’t know what they were going to talk about, or what they could possibly have in common, but it no longer mattered. Regina made her more nervous than anyone else she’d ever met, but only when they were apart. Being with her, speaking to her, that was easier than either of them had ever expected it to be. And, judging by the way Regina seemed equally at ease now, though she’d just been at least as nervous as Emma herself, the feeling seemed to be mutual, too. She grinned, and opened the passenger door of the Bug to pull out the red blanket. People were already filtering through the parking lot, heading down into the big grassy field below the playground. At the back of the field was a small stage under a white dome roof. Emma jerked her head toward the stairs.

“Shall we?” They fell in line with the rest of the crowd heading downward. Emma felt Regina sticking close to her back, almost as though she were afraid of being separated. When she spoke, her voice was very close to Emma’s ear.

“This is not very original, my dear.”

“We’ve already established that music is the original common ground.” Emma didn’t look back at Regina as she led them down the concrete steps to the park. She scowled. “Is it just me or are these steps like, half a step too long? I feel like if I don’t keep moving I’m going to fall down them.”

As if to prove her point, when she tried to take the steps a little slower, Regina immediately ran right into her, her nails curling gently into the skin of Emma’s bicep as she tried to stop her forward momentum so she didn’t push them both down the steps. Regina chuckled a low laugh into Emma’s ear, and Emma decided right there that barring Regina’s singing voice, this was the best sound Regina could possibly make. “I think that’s the point. Keep moving, Emma, there’s a fat sweaty man getting alarmingly close to touching me.”

Emma laughed in delight, both at Regina’s rudeness as well as the use of her first name. She shook her head and teased, “You are such a priss,” even as she quickened her pace again. Finally they left the stairs, and instead of following the trickling crowd forward toward the stage, Emma took Regina’s wrist and led them off to the right, staying in the back. The food carts were already there and set up, and the smell of fried dough was starting to become overwhelming.

“I didn’t think it was really going to smell like the fair,” she muttered to Regina as they looked for the perfect spot to spread their blanket. “Want an elephant ear later?”

Regina’s mouth twisted in disgust, but it seemed to be more an automatic response than anything. Emma saw enough interest spark in her brown eyes that she resolved to visit the carts later.

When they were at an angle with the corner of the stage, far enough back still that they would be able to see the band but not make out their faces, Emma stopped them and unfolded the blanket she had kept tucked over her arm.

“I can’t believe you didn’t let me bring chairs,” the brunette muttered as she watched Emma spread the fabric over the ground.

“I can’t believe you actually listened to me,” Emma shot back, flopping to the ground and patting the space next to her. Regina joined her a little more gracefully, tucking the skirt of her dress around her legs as she folded them to the side. She was careful to stay within the confines of the red blanket, which meant that she had to sit close enough to Emma that they were sharing body heat. To hide the grin that bent her lips at the fussy behavior, Emma guided them back to the original topic of conversation. “It’s one of the out of towners playing tonight. So at least we get to see a band we don’t know personally.”

They were kicking off the series with an energetic theme in hopes that it would set the tone for the whole summer; tonight was ska night. Emma squinted to see what they were setting up, and grinned when she saw them carrying horns onto the stage. “Cool, they’ve got a brass section!” She pointed to the two trumpets and the trombone.

“Let’s just hope they can play them.”

Emma looked over at her companion. Over the course of the band’s set up, and as more and more people streamed down the hill to set up blankets and lawn chairs around them, Regina’s posture had slowly become more tense. She was trembling a little, and Emma frowned, unsure of what was happening. But something was clearly upsetting Regina, though they’d only been there a handful of minutes and the band hadn’t even begun to play yet. Emma leapt to her feet and held a hand down to the brunette to help her up.

Regina frowned at it. “We just sat down.”

“Yeah, but I am in serious need of fried dough drenched in butter and cinnamon. We’re splitting an elephant ear, my treat. Come on.” She wiggled her fingers for emphasis.

Frowning, Regina simply stared at the hand. Then, behind them, a toddler began throwing a fit, and Regina gripped Emma’s fingers tightly. Emma hauled her up, and they began weaving through the maze of families. As they went, Emma tried to draw the other woman out of her head by asking questions. She started with, “So what instruments do you play?”

Regina, who was now following a frisbee being thrown between a triangle of boys, snapped her attention to Emma. “I’m sorry?”

“You, instruments. How many do you play? So far I’ve seen you play the guitar. But your creepy guitarist also plays the violin, and your sister does bass and the cello.” Emma tilted her head expectantly. “What about you? Anything else?”

“Piano,” Regina said. “Years and years of piano. Mother believed that every well rounded young woman of stature was more marriageable if she could play an instrument, among other things.” Then she smirked. “Guitar came later.”

Emma almost asked her who had taught her the guitar, but two things held her back. The first was that, considering her involvement with Heartless as a teenager, she had a pretty good idea of where she’d learned. But it was the second thing, the word that had caught her attention, that really kept her from asking. “Marriageable?”

Regina chuckled, but there was nothing of humor in the sound. They slid into the back of the line at the truck advertising elephant ears and lemon shakeups. “Oh yes. My mother’s ambitions for her daughters were lofty. She raised us to be the sort of well educated, sophisticated young women that would be appropriate wives to politicians.” Regina’s lips twitched. “My sister nearly made it.”

Emma blinked. Waited for Regina to laugh at her joke. Blinked again when she didn’t. Flatly, she asked, “Are you being serious right now?”

“Quite.”

They stepped up to the window of the truck, and Emma dug a crumpled twenty out of her pocket. “An elephant ear and two waters, please. Thanks.” She turned back to Regina. “You’re seriously telling me that your mother raised you and your crazy sister to be some sort of Stepford Wives?”

She smiled again when the paper plate with their dessert was slid across the counter, and Regina took both of their water bottles. Emma stuffed the change in her pocket again.

“What, you can’t picture it?”

Regina was smirking, and Emma studied her hard. The thing was, Emma had no problem picturing Regina as a wife. The Regina in the photo album, the one that Emma hadn’t met yet, was exactly as she thought Regina married would be like. But the kind of woman it sounded like the Mills matriarch had expected her daughter—both of her daughters, apparently—to become? That she had a very hard time picturing, and when she tried?

She broke into helpless giggles.

Regina’s smirk deepened. “Should I be insulted?”

Emma laughed harder. “I was just picturing you,” she snickered, “in pearls and heels,” an undignified snort, “and an apron, like Donna Reed, with dinner on the table by five, and—and—” She lost it, laughing too hard to continue. They reached their blanket, and this time Regina was the one that pulled Emma down to sit. She waited patiently, tearing off a bit of the warm dough and nibbling on it as Emma’s giggles died down.

“I’m pleased you are so amused.” Regina’s voice was dry.

Emma laughed once more. “Well, you gotta admit, that is wild!”

Regina’s face cracked. “I suppose it is.”

Up on the stage, the horns were testing their mics now. Emma slouched a little, bringing her upper body closer to Regina’s in order to get nearer to the plate, which was resting on Regina’s bent knees. She tore off a piece of the elephant ear and stuffed a huge portion of it in her mouth.

“That’s very attractive,” Regina scolded her lightly. “You now have butter and cinnamon sugar all over your face.”

Emma wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. The field to their right was beginning to fill with children, waiting for the concert to begin. “I didn’t realize how many families were going to be here,” she pointed out, watching as a couple of kids tried to drum up a kick ball game with the soccer ball one of them had tucked under her arm.

“Nor I,” Regina agreed quietly. She was going stiff again, Emma realized, and when she looked over at her, she was tracking the children with a strange look in her eyes.

Regina suddenly twisted the top off of her water and took a long drink. When she was done, she looked at Emma. “What about you?”

“Me?” Emma was so bewildered by the strange behavior that she didn’t understand the question.

“Yes, you. Instruments?”

“Oh. Um. No. Just the guitar.” Emma watched the kids, chewing slowly. She was aware of Regina watching her expectantly, and raised her eyebrows. “What?”

“That’s all the answer I get? No?” Regina slid the plate away when Emma tried to take another piece of their confection. “No, I think you’re done until you give me something else.”

Emma pouted. “Like what?”

“What made you learn the guitar?”

Emma fell silent, slipping a little lower in her posture. She thought briefly about fibbing, about making up some story about just knowing music was her calling. But she had a suspicion Regina would see right through that. And she didn’t have the energy to dance around the subject right now. So instead she heaved a sigh and told the truth.

“I was basically raised in foster care,” she said bluntly, checking Regina’s reaction before continuing; all the woman did was raise her eyebrows in encouragement. “I kind of got passed in and out of families and group homes. I never quite slipped through the cracks, but it was a close thing a couple of times. The longer I went without being adopted, the less likely it was it would ever happen, so the fosters got a little worse and a lot more crowded, and after a certain point it’s easy to get kind of…unruly, you know? And once you get labeled a problem kid, you’re pretty much doomed. No one wants a kid with behavior issues.”

Emma slipped all the way down onto the blanket, resting her head near Regina’s knee. She stared at the slowly darkening sky above, while Regina looked down at her and listened solemnly. “Anyway, I was about fifteen, and I think my case workers were giving up on me. I was running away from every home they put me in, wandering the streets, sleeping in parks. I got caught shoplifting a couple of times, stuff like that. So I got put in this community outreach program for troubled kids as a last ditch effort to rehab me as part of my probation for the last time I got arrested. There was a music program, and that was more interesting than most of the other stuff they tried with us, so I got into that. I guess I liked it because when I was sitting there practicing chords, things finally felt still. I could just relax.” She paused, remembering those early days of developing calluses, obsessively playing the old, scuffed up guitar that belonged to her teacher until she had the opening lick to Smoke on the Water down perfect. Her teacher had been patient with her, with all of them, and she still kind of felt bad about what she’d done to repay him. “I finally ran away for good when I was sixteen, and I actually took that old guitar with me. I still have it, actually.”

She fell silent, her eyes closed. Then, so softly she thought she was imagining it at first, gentle fingers brushed against her temple. She opened her eyes to see Regina leaning over her, playing with the little wisps of hair by her ears. Emma wouldn’t call the expression she made a smile, exactly, but it was something like that. Emma pouted a little when the woman withdrew her fingers, but grinned a moment later when a piece of the elephant ear was pressed against her lips.

“Your reward,” Regina murmured, and Emma opened her mouth to accept the treat. A pair of teenage girls walked by them. One of them had light up stars on springs poking up from the headband she wore. Her friend was opening the package of hers, fumbling for the switch so she could match. On the stage, the band sounded nearly ready to begin their set.

Emma pushed up to one hand. “Whoever makes those is a genius. They last only as long as you wear them the first time, and they sell them at every freaking thing ever. Hang on!” She jumped up, running over to the guy with the box of cheap light up crap. She didn’t buy the stars, that felt a little wrong to her, so she got a handful of the bracelets instead, and started cracking them on as she walked back to the blanket. She was fully expecting Regina to make some comment on her childishness as she started piecing the glow sticks together. But the brunette was silent; she wasn’t even watching Emma at all. She had her eyes back on the kickball kids, who had apparently been unsuccessful at getting together a full game, and so were now just kicking the ball between one another. Emma watched them too. She wasn’t great at guessing ages, but she thought they looked about nine or ten. They had pretty shitty aim with that ball, too. She watched one of their kicks veer wide, coming so close to the blanket she was sharing with Regina that she tensed herself to stop it from rolling into them. It stopped in a little divot of grass and dirt, though, and the male half of the pair came running over to retrieve it.

Emma heard Regina suck in a low breath. She turned to say something, make some silly comment about protecting her from stray kickballs, anything to make Regina roll her eyes at her, but the words died in her throat when she saw the expression on the woman’s face. She looked trapped, like she wanted to run, but had no where to go. But just as big a part of that expression was hungry, like she was looking at something she wanted more than anything in the world. Emma followed her gaze and yes, she was watching the boy run back to his friend with the ball.

Emma didn’t know anything about parenting, or what was normal for mothers to feel regarding their children. Was it possible this was only because Regina’s son wasn’t with them? Maybe she was only so nervous because the kid wasn’t here, and she didn’t know what he was doing. Even if she’d left him with someone she trusted, most likely her sister, clearly being separated from him wasn’t easy. Emma wanted to ask, but that would mean confessing that she knew about the boy in the first place, and she was sure Regina hadn’t told her about him for a reason. And she wasn’t asking to leave, either. She seemed to want to spend time with Emma. So perhaps this anxiety was nothing to be worried about, and Emma should just try to distract her again.

Grinning, she connected the glow sticks in her hand into a circlet, and dropped it onto Regina’s head. Regina blinked, startled, and put one hand up to touch it in surprise. Emma rolled her hand and mock bowed. “I made you a crown, Your Majesty.”

“You are utterly ridiculous,” Regina told her seriously. But her eyes were amused, and she was back with Emma now, even if her posture was somewhat stiff still.

“Is that any way to talk about your best friend?” Emma fluttered her eyelashes innocently. That broke the tension entirely, and before she knew what was happening, Regina had torn off another piece of elephant ear and crammed it against Emma’s lips.

“Quiet,” she ordered primly. “The band is starting.”

She turned to the stage pointedly, tucking her skirt more firmly around her legs. Emma sucked the dough into her mouth, grinning while she chewed, and scooted a little closer to the brunette on the blanket. Regina didn’t look at her, but her lips twitched a little. Emma’s grin grew and, feeling triumphant and giddy, she turned to watch the band too.

* * *

The band was good, so they stayed for the whole set. It was ten thirty before they were climbing the stairs back to the parking lot where they’d left their cars. An awkward, charged silence fell over them. Neither wanted to break it, but the longer it lingered, the more Emma fidgeted. She didn’t want the night to end, she realized suddenly. She’d had fun hanging out with Regina in a setting that didn’t involve alcohol, or Takeovers, or jealous overprotective sisters, or drunk former bed buddies. She was wracking her brain, trying to think of something else that they could do, when Regina lifted the glow stick circlet off her head and set it over Emma’s brow.

“I had fun,” she smiled softly at Emma. “Thank you, dear.”

Right before she transferred into her car, she leaned over and pressed a dry kiss to Emma’s cheek. Then she, and her car, were gone before Emma had recovered from her surprise.

She couldn’t stop the goofy grin that took over her entire face. She didn’t even want to. She climbed into her car, looped the circlet of glow sticks over her rear view mirror, and pointed the Bug towards home. Mary Margaret was, to Emma’s great surprise, still at the apartment when she got back. She stared at Emma accusingly as she went to deposit the glowing crown in the freezer.

“You.” The brunette pointed one stern finger at Emma.

“Me?” Emma frowned at her roommate. “I haven’t been here all night, why am I in trouble?”

“You weren’t with Neal.”

“I never said I was going to be!” Emma defended. “You just assumed that! Also, how did you even know that?”

“I have my ways,” was all Mary Margaret was willing to say, which meant that she’d been talking to Ruby, who was probably actually with the Jolly Rogers, or at least a few of them, and that’s how she found out who Emma wasn’t with.

Emma rolled her eyes. “I know other people besides my band and his, geez, Mary Margaret.”

“What other people?”

“Just people! God, are you my mother, do I have to report everything I do to you now?”

“Of course not! Why are we even arguing? I was only teasing!” Mary Margaret’s eyes went wide. “Oh my goodness, you were on a date, weren’t you? This concert thing was a date! With who?”

Emma paused, tilting her head. “It wasn’t date. At least, I don’t think it was. I got a kiss on the cheek when it was over, though, so maybe it was a date. Huh.”

“Wait.” Mary Margaret held up a hand. “He kissed your cheek?”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t a guy.” Emma grinned, inching toward her room and keeping her eyes locked on Mary Margaret’s face so she could see her reaction when she said slyly, “It was Regina. Regina kissed me on the cheek.”

Mary Margaret’s face went slack with surprise, and Emma laughed in delight and darted to her room. She quickly shut the door and threw the lock, and the last thing she heard before stepping into her bathroom for a shower was Mary Margaret banging on her door and yelling, “Are you teasing me? You’re teasing me, aren’t you? Who were you really with? Emma Swan, you get back here!”


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Emma decides to be brave, and talks to her band.

Mary Margaret was gone when Emma left for work the next day, but she left a note on the coffee pot letting her know that she expected real answers about Emma’s mystery date the night before, and not teasing. It was amusing to Emma, that she’d told the absolute truth, and Mary Margaret had immediately assumed that she was being made fun of. But the conversation stood out because if Emma looked at the situation from the outside, she could definitely see how she had kind of taken Regina on a date last night. She’d been nervous for it like she got nervous for dates. Hell, she’d even torn through her wardrobe like it was a date. It was also more than possible that Regina had realized that they were on a date even though Emma hadn’t. In fact, it was also more than possible that this was their _second_ date. That night at Ingrid’s could have been their first. Maybe. Did dates end with both participants getting trashed and being driven home by the bartender? Emma got the feeling that anything was possible, and with Regina that—

Holy crap. Was she dating Regina Mills?

That was the thought in the back of her mind the entire time she was at work that day. She wasn’t obsessing, not really, since it took most of her attention to tiptoe around Leroy, because he was still pissed at her for her behavior on Thursday. Which she totally understood and didn’t blame him for at all, but it was kind of irritating that he kept barking orders at her like she was an idiot. Luckily for her, his girlfriend came in around noon. She was coming in so regularly now that Emma really needed to learn her name; she and August had both sat around for twenty minutes trying to remember what it was, and both of them had failed at coming up with anything. She was sweet but just so ordinary, and every name they thought of fit her perfectly. Anyway, she brought Leroy lunch, and that improved his mood considerably.

But when she had a few extra minutes to spare, or when she was doing something mindless like dusting or re-shelving, the thought would wander through again, am I dating Regina?, and she would pause and tilt her head and think about it. It didn’t take her long to realize that she didn’t mind the idea. In fact, she actually kind of…liked it. She kind of wanted it to be true; dating Regina Mills would be awesome, Emma was sure.

She was working on a really good panic—again, because holy crap! She wanted to date Regina Mills! She might already be dating Regina Mills!—when her phone buzzed in her pocket. With a sly glance towards the back room, and Leroy’s office, she slid it into her hand. Normally he wasn’t too fussy about her using her phone while she was clocked in, as long as she got all her work done and the customers still felt like she was approachable, but she didn’t want to take any risks today. But the message might’ve been Regina, and in light of her recent revelation, she didn’t want to miss a single attempt at communication with the other woman. So she hid the phone under the counter to check it.

To her disappointment, it wasn’t Regina. Just Ruby. A little apprehensively, she put in her password to see what new snide thing her best friend had to say to her, and frowned when it was just a brief message to meet the rest of the band that night at seven. She sighed. She really did understand why Ruby was pissed at her. She honestly did. She shouldn’t have walked out on them that day. But how long was Ruby going to hold that against her? She wasn’t the only one that had behaved badly that day, after all. Ruby had actually been attacking Tina! So why was she the only one being punished? She texted back a one word acceptance of the meeting, and then tapped on Regina’s name. There were only a few messages between them; the last one was Regina’s comment about being quicker to snatch Mena bald next time, and Emma grinned at it. Before she’d really thought about what she was even going to say to the woman, her thumbs were typing a new message.

_So I know it’s Saturday and you probably already have plans, but if you happen to be free tonight, do you want to do something with me?_

She hit send and nervously sorted through returns as she waited for a reply. Regina probably wouldn’t be able to come. After all, the woman had a kid and this was pretty short notice. But it didn’t hurt to ask, and if nothing else, it at least showed that Emma wanted to spend more time with the brunette. Whether or not she accepted, at least Regina would know that.

Oh god. She was ridiculous. She was completely ridiculous. Three seconds after realizing she wanted to date Regina, and here she was already obsessing over ways to make Regina realize she wanted to date her, when what she really needed to do was just come out and say it, not tiptoe around it like some silly teenager with a crush. She was exhausted just thinking about those kind of games and the effort it would take to dance around this. She would just tell her, the next time they saw one another. Whether that was tonight or in a week or two weeks or whenever. _Hey, I really like you and I want to take you on a date._ Simple, clear, and to the point.

Her phone buzzed, and this time she forgot all about caution to fumble it out of her pocket. Regina’s name caused her lips to turn up in a big smile, which only widened when she saw the woman’s response. _And what would you propose we do?_

Emma’s fingers flew over the screen. _That’s for me to know and you to find out._

A few minutes later, Regina replied with, _What are you, 12?_

Emma chuckled. _I think we’ve had this conversation before, and you’re giving me too much credit. Come on, it’s a surprise. You game?_

The reply this time was immediate. _I’m free tomorrow. Pick me up at seven._ And then there was an address, which Emma put into her GPS right away. Storybrooke wasn’t exactly the biggest town in Maine, but Emma was still pleasantly surprised at how close her loft was to Regina’s address.

“Swan!” Emma’s head jerked up; she winced when she saw Leroy escorting his lunch date to the door.

“Sorry, boss,” she muttered, slipping the phone out of sight and bracing herself for her scolding. The scowl on Leroy’s face indicated she was going to be receiving a good one.

But then the tiny brunette at his side laid a hand on his arm and shook her head slightly. Leroy deflated like a balloon, and the girlfriend kissed his cheek. While he blushed and grumbled, the girlfriend gave Emma a jaunty little wave as she passed Emma at her counter.

“See you later, Emma,” she said with a little giggle.

“Um, yeah. You too.” Emma really needed to figure out what that woman’s name was.

Leroy shook his head at her gruffly, but fond-gruff, not angry-gruff. Fighting a smile, he grumped, “Get back to work, Swan.”

* * *

Later that evening, Emma found herself sitting in her car outside the Lost Girls’ practice unit; everyone else was already inside. She was trying to prepare herself to go inside, because she had decided earlier, she was just going to eat crow on this one. She was tired of all the fighting, and truly, she didn’t even really know what they were fighting about anyway. So she was going to go in there and apologize and try to put this all behind them.

Putting it off wasn’t making it any easier, though. In fact, she could feel her resolve waning. So before she could chicken out, she forced herself out of the Bug. She lifted the door to their unit, and was rewarded with all three of her band mates turning to glare at her. Tina was seated behind her drums looking thunderous, while Ruby was slouching on their crappy hundred dollar couch from craigslist with her arms crossed over her chest, and Belle truly just looked ready to strangle them both. Emma sighed.

“Oh good,” she muttered dryly, sliding the door shut behind her. “I see I haven’t missed anything important. What are we screaming at each other about now?”

She immediately regretted the snark, because now all their ill humor was actually directed at her. Ruby and Tina both tensed like they expected her to take a swing. And Emma would have been lying if she said she weren’t tempted, but she’d come to make peace, not instigate a riot. She held up a hand to forestall anything they might have tried to say.

“No, wait. I didn’t mean that, sorry.” She paused. “Well, actually, I did kind of mean it, but not that way. I just mean I’m tired of fighting. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the one that walked out on us,” Ruby muttered sullenly, refusing to meet Emma’s gaze. Emma took in a deep breath; she wasn’t going to roll her eyes at her best friend. No matter how much she wanted to, she _would not_ roll her eyes at her best friend. She let the breath out very, very slowly.

“I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry,” she told them when she was calm. “I was just very tired of the way we were acting, and I made a bad decision. But seriously, I never would have agreed to this stupid concert if I knew how it was going to make us act.” The other Lost Girls at least had the decency to look ashamed of themselves, and Emma nodded in satisfaction. Good, she was getting through. “So let’s just quit with this bickering, okay? I’m sorry I walked out, and I’ll control myself better in the future. Okay?”

“That’s it?” Ruby demanded, glaring at her. “That’s what you’re apologizing for?”

Emma blinked at her. Was she being serious right now? “What the hell else is there for me to apologize for, Ruby? Jesus Christ, I walked out on one band meeting, I didn’t, like, put a curse on your house or anything. I don’t even think I’ve been the biggest asshole here, so what the hell do you even want from me?”

Ruby scowled and looked away again. Emma held back a frustrated growl, but just barely. She really wasn’t sure what Ruby’s problem was, but she was over it. Fuck apologizing, fuck letting this slide, fuck being the bigger person. She was going to make Ruby tell her what was going on. She was sick of always feeling like they were having two different conversations.

“Emma’s right,” Tina said, before Emma could even draw another breath. The little blonde slumped dejectedly behind her drums, looking so completely pathetic that Emma forgot all about being pissed at Ruby. Tina sighed, sounding miserable. “I’ve been just awful lately. I don’t know why you guys even put up with me.”

Belle put her arm around Tina’s shoulders and squeezed her. “We’ve _all_ been awful, Tink. We’ve been behaving like children.”

“It took all of us to get here,” Emma agreed, sharing a warm, apologetic smile with them both.

They all turned expectant eyes to Ruby. The brunette just turned her head more firmly away. And maybe it was only because of Tina’s self-blame, but Emma no longer felt the burning anger at her best friend that she’d been feeling just moments before. She and Ruby were too similar for their own good, and they could fight like this for ages before either one of them swallowed their pride and apologized. Hadn’t Emma come in here with the best of intentions, only to rise immediately to Ruby’s baiting? Her behavior, in light of Tina’s willingness to immediately shoulder all the blame onto herself, now made her feel a little ashamed of herself. She was only giving Ruby permission to act like a brat by being just as bratty back.

With that thought, she smirked, and walked over to the couch and threw herself down on it, sprawling half of her body on top of Ruby’s. The brunette’s long limbs dug painfully into her back. Emma just snuggled in further, batting her eyelashes up at her friend, though Ruby’s only acknowledgment of her new position was a forceful exhalation when Emma landed on her.

Emma dug her elbow into Ruby’s stomach, under her crossed arms. “Come on, Rubes,” she pressed. “Aren’t you tired of it? Or do you just not miss me?” It was only because she was so close that she was able to see the very slight softening of Ruby’s expression. She grabbed hold of Ruby’s elbows and tried to pry her arms apart, wheedling as she did, “Come on, Ruby, pleeeeease be my friend again?”

Ruby finally let her arms uncross and gave Emma a push. Right before she slid off Ruby’s lap completely, the brunette grabbed hold of her and pulled her back up. “You’re such a dope, Emma.”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway.” She waggled her eyebrows, but couldn’t help the worry that seeped through despite her best efforts to sound cavalier.

The last of Ruby’s resistance melted away. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s just…play some fucking music, Jesus.”

Emma grinned triumphantly. Tina squealed, and slammed into both of them in a tight hug.

“Idiots,” Ruby muttered, shaking her head fondly. “You’re all idiots.”

* * *

Mary Margaret was waiting for her on the couch when she got home. Emma sighed, and slowly took her jacket off. Mary Margaret made a matching, huffing sound, and simply stared at her. Emma took her keys to the coffee table and dropped them there, ignoring the glare Mary Margaret gave her as they skittered across the glass. Her roommate was doing a damned good job of making Emma feel guilty, which was stupid because she had nothing to feel guilty for.

“Emma.”

Emma sat on the couch and leaned down to untie her shoes.

“Emma.”

Emma slowly pulled off each shoe, and carefully lined them up against the corner of the couch.

“Emma.”

Emma heaved a sigh, and looked up into her roommate’s face. “What, Mary Margaret?”

She kept her voice flat, just to leave no doubt that she knew what Mary Margaret wanted to talk to her about, and that she was feeling less than enthusiastic about it. She leaned back into the cushions and crossed her arms, just for effect.

“Were you joking with me last night?”

Stubbornly, Emma pretended she had no idea what the other woman was talking about.

“Did you really go to the concert with Regina?”

Emma sighed. “So what if I did, Mary Margaret? Would that be so bad?”

Mary Margaret looked surprised. “No, Emma, of course it wouldn’t. I was just surprised, that’s all. Regina hasn’t exactly been…”

“Warm and welcoming? Yeah, I know what you mean. To tell you the truth, I sort of just followed her around until she agreed to hang out with me.”

Mary Margaret chuckled. “That sounds very like you.”

“So if you aren’t going to warn me off, what the hell is this about?”

“I just…I don’t know,” Mary Margaret looked uncertain. “I guess I was just thinking about what you said, about the anxiety, and I just got worried, so I…” She sighed, uncertain.

Emma looked at her and shook her head. “Mary Margaret, you sap. You’re looking out for her.”

Mary Margaret smiled, blushing. “Yeah, well. Maybe I owe her.”

Emma smiled and wrapped one arm around her friend in a side hug, and squeezed her. “You’re sweet, Mary Margaret. I promise I’m not taking Carrie to the prom or anything. I am actually interested in being her friend.”

“Well.” Mary Margaret nodded once, firmly. “That’s fine, then. That’s…that’s good, actually. I think that’s really good.”

Mary Margaret really was the most sickeningly adorable person she’d ever met in her life. She pulled her friend more comfortably onto the cushions with her. She snagged the remote. “Come on, let’s watch crappy TV for a while, okay?”

Mary Margaret snuggled closer into her and leaned her head against Emma’s shoulder. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

They settled in.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Regina is one step ahead of Emma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys. I didn't realize it's been a month. I'm really sorry. Life is crazy. I'll do my best not to let it go this long again.

Making up with Ruby put a bounce in her step that lasted Emma well into the next day. She hadn’t been really aware of how much being at odds with her best friend had put her out of sorts. But now it felt like a literal weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she knew she was going to enjoy her date— _yes_ , in the spirit of being hopeful, she was considering it a date—with Regina tonight.

She wasn’t entirely sure her plans were going to be well received but there was only one way to find out. She left her apartment a little early, and drove over to her favorite burger joint first. Regina didn’t exactly strike her as a hamburger type person, but she’d already proved herself to be a bit of a surprise anyway, so Emma was just going to take a gamble. Anyway, the night Regina had taken her to Ingrid’s, she knew that she’d been shown something that Regina considered special. So tonight, she was going to return the favor.

Storybrooke was small enough that, even though Regina didn’t live very far from Emma, there was still a pretty decent difference in the quality of their neighborhoods. Emma didn’t live in a bad neighborhood by any means, but it was certainly in a lower income area than Regina’s building. She spent a moment just looking up at the building, well maintained and even kind of pretty, and decided that Regina must have some other way of making rent, because singing in a band certainly wasn’t doing it. This, Emma was sure, was one of those buildings that looked modest, but probably had state of the art, Jetsons era appliances inside.

She sat and stared until 7:05, at which time she cursed and leapt out of her car. She hadn’t even gotten around the front of it, though, when Regina came out the door and down the steps.

Emma stopped and stared at her. “Were you…watching me?”

Regina blushed a little, not meeting Emma’s eyes. “Well,” she said primly, smoothing her skirt. “I thought for a moment that you might drive off.”

“Hey!” Emma was mildly offended that Regina would even consider that Emma might stand her up. “I’ve got way more class than that. I would at least send you a Dear John text!”

Now it was Regina’s turn to look affronted. “Emma Swan, if you _ever_ send me a Dear John letter, I swear I will end you!”

Emma laughed, and opened the passenger side door. “Duly noted. Don’t text message break up.” She bit her lip a little and waited to see if Regina would notice what she’d said, but the woman was too busy negotiating her way into Emma’s low vehicle to notice. Emma watched her adjust the sleeves of her black dress, which had little points at the shoulders that should have looked silly but somehow just…didn’t. “You look awesome, by the way. Very Morticia Addams.”

It was possibly the most ridiculous thing she could have said, but Regina’s lips twitched anyway. Still, though, Emma slammed the door before any more stupid could come spilling out of her mouth.

“Where are you taking me this time, Miss Swan?” Regina asked, when Emma had pulled away from the curb.

Emma flashed a quick grin at her passenger. “Hope you didn’t eat, because I picked up dinner for us. We’re going to be cutting it close, time-wise.”

“Close for what?”

“My favorite thing to do in town that isn’t playing music,” Emma said vaguely, bouncing a little in her excitement. She was fairly certain that there was a good chance that Regina had never done this before, since it was a tradition that had begun in the years after the Evil Regals had left Storybrooke with Heartless.

Regina seemed amused by Emma’s excitement. “And what would that be, my dear?”

“Give it like, five minutes, okay?” Emma paused briefly at a stop sign, then rolled through it. She saw Regina’s lips turn down a bit, and grinned to herself. She knew it was because they were driving deeper into a residential neighborhood, rather than out into town. She’d been in Storybrooke maybe three weeks when she’d discovered this place. She’d been walking around, lost and getting even more so, in one of her early exploration adventures, and she’d literally just stumbled upon it.

“There was this one home I was in as a kid,” she explained, pulling up to a house to park behind a line of other cars. “The mom had this obsession with old movies and stuff. So we would sit in the basement with a bed sheet on the wall and watch movies on a projector. It was kind of fun, like going to a drive in or something. Ever since then, I don’t know, I just have a thing for old movies.”

She reached behind them and snagged their dinner from the back seat. Regina followed Emma out of the car, staring curiously at the line of people coming out the front door and down the porch, almost to the sidewalk. She and Emma were easily the youngest people in the group, and like Emma, many of them were carrying their own dinners.

Emma put a hand at the small of Regina’s back, flushing some with pleasure when she felt the other woman lean back into her. Even when Emma led them up the walk, Regina kept her pace such that Emma’s hand stayed firm on her back. She kept it there as long as possible, until they reached the door and she had to move her hand to dig into her pocket.

“Ah, Emma, thought I might be seeing you tonight.” The old man at the door smiled kindly at her.

“You know I never miss an Audrey night, Marco,” Emma grinned, and fished out a ten dollar bill.

“And who is your friend?” Marco asked, with a curious glance at Regina. Emma didn’t blame him. She’d never brought anyone here with her before.

“This is Regina,” she said, and nearly laughed when the old man’s eyes went wide and he fumbled her change. She stuffed it in her pocket and patted his cheek fondly.

“Did he recognize me?” Regina whispered, standing close to Emma so she could hold Emma’s arm in both of her hands. Emma led her down the darkened hallway, smiling reassuringly. She understood Regina’s unease; it had taken her several trips here before she felt comfortable navigating what was clearly the old man’s home.

“I’m sure he did,” Emma told her as they entered the ‘theater’ part of the house. It was just a big room, probably the original living room and dining room with the wall between them gone. Marco, a carpenter by trade, had done an amazing job simulating stadium seating here, with small raised platforms he’d carpeted. Upon them was a mess of mismatched furniture, couches and armchairs with throw blankets folded along their backs. She led them to the back corner, to what she considered ‘her’ love seat, and explained, “Marco is August’s uncle. So I’m sure he’s heard _all_ about you.”

Regina stayed standing while Emma made herself comfortable on the small couch. Emma ignored her, figuring she’d eventually get bored of that and sit with her. But when she moved to open the bag with their food and Regina still hadn’t sat, she wrinkled her nose at the other woman nervously. “What?”

“Nothing,” Regina shook her head. “You’re just…”

“Ridiculous? Childish? An idiot?”

“All those things,” Regina agreed with a barely there grin. “Also, nothing like what I thought you’d be.”

It was said in such a bemused way that Emma couldn’t help but to duck her head shyly. But soon enough she was back to herself, grinning cheekily at the brunette. “Well, sit down and try your food while that’s still a good thing. And, before you get too annoyed with me, I did bring you a salad in case you don’t like it.”

She handed the second sandwich and the water bottle that had also been in the bag up to Regina. She stared at it all suspiciously for a moment—the food, the unmarked bag it had come in, the small couch, the huge room, rapidly filling with more people, and then she did something quite unexpected. She gave Emma a brief, so brief she almost missed it, glimpse of that wide, megawatt smile Emma wanted to see so badly. Then she dropped into the seat next to Emma and took her food.

“Marco usually shows two movies a night,” Emma explained, watching Regina unwrap her burger. As Emma had thought she might, she wrinkled her nose in automatic distaste. But just like with the elephant ear, there was no hesitation when she lifted it to her mouth. Emma continued speaking, even through her sly grin. “Sometimes there’s a theme, like they were made in the same year or have the same actor or whatever, but tonight he’s just showing two of his favorites.The first one is kind of intense so the second one is a comedy and oh my _god_ your face right now!”

Regina had lifted the top bun briefly to inspect the toppings on her sandwich, but she hadn’t thought to do the same to the bottom one. So when she took a big bite of it, she was completely taken by surprise by the fact that there was peanut butter spread underneath the hamburger patty. Emma watched her eyes go wide and her jaw go still, as if she had no idea how to proceed, and broke into peals of laughter.

“That’s the best expression I’ve ever seen,” she giggled. “You’re not going to hit me, are you?”

Regina narrowed her eyes as though she were really thinking about it, and slowly finished chewing. When she swallowed, she sighed, but maybe a little fondly. “You’re right, you are ridiculous. This is something a five year old would eat.” She paused; Emma was already digging for the salad she’d gotten, when Regina laid a hand on her wrist. “I like it though. Thank you for dinner.”

Emma beamed. “You’re welcome.”

“And now you’ve introduced me to two new things in Storybrooke, and I consider that very impressive since I grew up here.”

“To be fair, it’s a new tradition,” Emma gestured around. “He’s only been doing it a few years now.”

“What made him start?” Regina let herself settle further into the small couch, brushing against Emma in her attempt to get comfortable. Emma found herself fighting against giddy laughter when the brunette apparently found her comfy spot with her leg pressed up against Emma’s. She liked that she’d managed to surprise the woman, and she liked that it seemed to only have endeared her to Regina some. Everything was going really well, so of course it was also the moment that she stuck her foot in it. She was opening her mouth to reply, when she saw Marco enter the room, with August and Killian in tow. She immediately grimaced and hunched down, trying to avoid being seen. They didn’t look like they were interested in the crowd at all. But Emma knew well how Killian’s attention span wandered, and she was not at all interested in dealing with him tonight.

Regina followed her gaze, found August and Killian talking with Marco, who was digging through a cabinet and pulling out a messy handful of cables. August picked through them, but Killian flicked his gaze around the dimly lit room, looking bored. Whenever his eyes came near to where they were sitting, Emma turned her face away and hunched her shoulders.

“Oh.” Regina’s voice was flat as she looked between Emma and Killian. Emma completely and immediately forgot about the guys, though, as she watched Regina wrap up her unfinished dinner. Her face had gone stony, and she would not meet Emma’s eyes as she moved to stand up.

“Where are you going?” she asked, bewildered. Regina ignored her, instead shouldering her purse. Emma caught her hand and tugged. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“You tell me, Miss Swan,” Regina hissed. “But I’ll save you the embarrassment of being seen with me while you figure it out.”

“What? Why the hell—oh. Oh, shit, no!”

Regina pulled on her hand. “Indeed. Let me go, Miss Swan.”

Emma hastily shoved her food off their couch. “No way, lady. Let me explain!” She tugged Regina’s hand again, harder this time, till she lost her balance and tumbled nearly into Emma’s lap. Emma immediately clamped one hand on her knee to keep her in place.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Let me go!”

“I _said_ no!” Emma snarled into Regina’s face. “Calm down! This has nothing to do with you, I just don’t want to talk to him!”

That made Regina blink, then narrow her suspiciously. “Go on.”

Emma looked back up, checking, and found that her two friends were gone, and Marco was turning his attention to preparing to show the first movie. Relieved, she sat up a little straighter but didn’t relinquish her hold on her companion. Regina still looked much too flighty for comfort.

“Basically, I like the guy and we’re friends, but he’s kind of a jerk,” she said bluntly. “If he knew I came here he’d think it was stupid and then he’d start crashing it. This is sort of the thing that I do that no one else knows about, and I would kind of like to keep it that way. That’s all.”

Regina stared at her. Emma tried to meet her eyes, and for a time she was successful. But god, Regina’s eyes were too damn intense, and that expression was so blank and unnerving. She couldn’t help herself when she dropped her eyes with a sigh. A moment later, though, the weight against Emma got heavier. Regina settled into Emma’s side, tucking herself against the back of the couch. Emma risked a sideways glance. Regina wouldn’t look back at her, but a small grin pulled at the corners of her mouth. Quietly, she asked, “You brought me someplace your friends don’t know about?”

Emma felt her flush deepen. A little embarrassed, since she hadn’t meant to really tell her that part of it, she only shrugged. “Yeah, well. I thought that you might like this.”

Gingerly, Regina nodded her head; they were close enough that Emma could feel the slide of the brunette’s hair against her shoulder. “I do like it.”

“Good.” Emma slipped her Chucks off her feet. “Then shut up. The first movie is about to start.”

* * *

Emma had seen both movies before, so she was able to enjoy Regina’s seeing them for what was clearly the first time. She was surprised by how tense Wait Until Dark made her, but she couldn’t deny that she sort of loved the way Regina would grab her knee whenever she got nervous. Then they snickered their way through Arsenic and Old Lace.

“How have you never seen those movies before?” She had to ask on the way back to Regina’s. “You really seem like a classics kind of girl, and you don’t get much more classic than Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant.”

Regina only hummed. “Mother didn’t approve of cinema. We were never allowed to go.”

Emma snickered at the use of the word cinema, and pointed out, “Yeah, but you can’t tell me that you always did everything mommy told you to do.”

Regina pursed her lips, smug. “No. But my teenage rebellion was a bit more drastic than watching movies when Mother said I couldn’t.”

“Woah.” Emma lifted her hands from the steering wheel briefly and held them up in mock surrender. “We got ourselves a badass over here!”

It was late when she returned Regina to her building, and Emma had the early shift at the record store in the morning. Still, though, she wasn’t eager for the night to end, even when the silence between them after she killed the engine became slightly awkward. Regina didn’t seem to be in any rush either. Finally, feeling like a complete spaz, Emma leapt into motion, jumping from her seat so she could run around the front of the bug and open Regina’s door for her. “Let me walk you to the door,” she blurted, as soon as Regina had one foot on the ground.

Regina blinked at her, amusement and surprise at war in her dark eyes, before finally offering Emma her hand. Emma took it, hoping Regina wouldn’t notice that her sudden nerves were making her tremble ever so slightly. After the door was shut, Regina tucked her hand into Emma’s elbow, and Emma thought she was going to vibrate right out of her skin. Regina’s door was getting closer, which meant she had to get it together before they got there, because this was an important conversation she was about to start. Chickening out and running away was sounding better and better with every step. If Regina laughed in her face, she was pretty sure she would just die of embarrassment. Plus, that would make the Lost Girls a perfect Takeover target, and then her friends would hate her too. She should probably just say goodnight and leave now before she ruined everything.

“You’re thinking much too hard about this, my dear,” Regina murmured finally, and Emma was startled to realize that they were standing at Regina’s door, and had been for a few moments already. “Perhaps you should just kiss me goodnight now, before you have an aneurysm.”

“Yeah, I just need to talk—wait. What?”

Regina chuckled. “Oh, you _are_ in your own head. I said, you can kiss me goodnight now. Does that…help with what you’re thinking so hard about?”

For a moment, Emma could only stare, sure she couldn’t possibly have heard what she thought she’d heard. There was no way that Regina had just beaten her to the punch like this. Not when she’d been preparing herself for this moment, rehearsing what she was going to say over and over and over in her head. But Regina was smirking at her, so smug and satisfied with herself, and Emma was hit with sudden clarity: she was going to have to get used to this kind of oneupmanship.

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. Regina was going to reply; no doubt she had the perfect teasing comeback already waiting on the tip of her tongue. But there was no way Emma was going to let her have the last word on top of everything else. So she hooked her hand behind Regina’s neck and dipped her head in to kiss her gently.

It didn’t last long. Regina met her with no hesitation, curling her fingers into Emma’s tank top, underneath her jacket. Emma let her lips slide, exploring, and memorized the feeling of smooth hair brushing the back of her knuckles. She let her lips part just a little, so she could scrape her top teeth along Regina’s full bottom lip as she pulled away.

“You’re right,” she grinned cheekily. “That helped a lot. Goodnight, Regina.”

She left the brunette at her door, blinking dazedly. It wasn’t until Emma was already behind the wheel of the Bug again that she seemed to come back to herself. Emma gave her a little wave, which was returned, and then she waited until Regina was safely away inside her building, with the door shut tight behind her. The Bug rumbled to life, and Emma drummed her fingers against the wheel.

“Oh yeah,” she murmured in satisfaction. “I’m definitely dating Regina.”


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a date, a Takeover, and a confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not completely happy with this chapter and how it flows, but I felt it was important to get these interactions in before the next chapter. So here it is, in all it's awkward glory.

“So. Are you doing anything special before your first full show?”

It was several days after their movie date night, and Emma was finding that as much time as she’d wanted to spend with Regina before, now she wanted even more time with her. Luckily for Emma, Regina seemed to feel the same way, and they’d spent every moment Emma wasn’t rehearsing with the Lost Girls or working at the record store with one another. Regina’s knowledge of Storybrooke was excellent, and she’d taken Emma to a couple of places she hadn’t seen before. Emma’s favorite was the bluff overlooking the town, which had started out as stargazing and ended with them making out like teenagers in the back of Regina’s Mercedes. Just now, they were driving to Portland in that same car, since Regina flatly refused to let Emma’s Bug leave Storybrooke. She wouldn’t tell Emma where they were going, but she promised Emma would like it.

Emma hadn’t really meant to ask Regina the question, but it had been building up in the back of her throat for a few days now. And she wasn’t the only one wondering, either. Since word had spread that Emma was friends with Regina, she was being bombarded with questions regarding what the Regals had planned for their final Takeover. Killian had been so obnoxious about it that she’d finally just blocked his number, but of course that didn’t stop him from badgering her whenever he saw her. Leroy had even had to kick him out of the store yesterday.

Emma was just happy her own band didn’t seem to care one way or another. In fact, none of them had even brought the subject up. They were entirely devoted to their Women of Rock set list, which was finally coming along at a steady pace.

When Regina didn’t answer, Emma tried again. “Róisín is so paranoid, they’ve canceled every War Council show for the next two weeks.”

At that, Regina smirked. “They needn’t have bothered. They stopped being fun to sabotage long ago.”

“You are such an asshole,” Emma muttered fondly, rolling her eyes at the intense smugness in Regina’s tone.

Regina laughed, and reached over to turn the music up. Emma let the subject drop, and instead focused on having a nice night out. Sneaking around Storybrooke had a certain appeal, and they were both having fun with it, but even though neither was quite ready for the fuss the people in their lives would make once they were found out, they didn’t want all their dates to be clandestine, secret affairs. A night out in a different town where they could openly flirt and fight over the bill at dinner and hold hands if they wanted to sounded pretty good to them both. Emma wanted to be entirely focused on Regina tonight, and not on their lives at home.

They’d had a conversation about it the day after their movie date, actually. Through text, because sometimes Emma could be brave enough to start things but not brave enough to do it face to face. It wasn’t that she was ashamed, she’d explained. Just careful. She hadn’t told anyone she was bi yet, and she needed time to work up to it. One bad experience as a teenager getting kicked out of a foster home for ‘deviant’ behavior, plus one or two people in her adult life that had reacted badly to finding out had left her a little gunshy. She didn’t really think the Lost Girls would care, but she needed to prepare.

Regina wasn’t offended. In fact, she was relieved. She had her own reasons for wanting to wait, and chief among them was Zelena. She wanted a little time to enjoy this, and Emma, before her sister got involved and drove them both up the wall with her typical overzealous, protective big sister behavior.

So for now, Portland was the compromise. Their chance to have real dates without any risk that someone from home would see them. Emma had only been to Portland a couple of times since moving to Storybrooke, and each of those trips had been with her band. Ruby insisted that they were scouting places to play, but that had just been a n excuse to get drunk and go dancing as a group.

Regina, on the other hand, took her to a real restaurant first. They flirted over the main courses and Emma would have argued over who paid the bill, except Regina was sneakier than she’d expected and managed to pay while Emma was in the restroom. It was nice, and Emma enjoyed every minute of it.

After dinner, they went dancing. Emma had actually been to the club Regina had dragged them to, as part of one of Ruby’s ‘scouting’ missions. Regina grinned when Emma told her, and led her to a far corner by the bar. Emma was so distracted by watching Regina move to the music to realize that the brunette was pointing at something on the wall. When she did, she squinted at it, and made such a high pitched sound of delight that even she was startled by it. The photograph Regina was showing her featured a very young Regina and Mal, behind a microphone and drums respectively, flanked by two guys on guitar and bass that Emma didn’t recognize. Regina had a guitar as well, the same one she’d used to play Rid of Me, Emma realized, and she couldn’t have been older than 18 or 19.

She clapped her hands together a little and squealed. “Look at you two, you were just babies! You were such a cute little baby goth!”

Regina swatted her with the back of her hand, and Emma noticed for the first time that she actually looked a little nervous. “Hush, you. Be nice.”

Emma grabbed the hand and squeezed it. “No, this is great! I love it!” Emma bent closer to study it. “Where’s Zelena though? Who are the randos?”

“This is the earliest version of the Evil Regals. Zelena was…” Regina’s brow furrowed as she looked for the right word. Eventually she just shrugged. “Zelena was still with our mother in the beginning. Heartless was helping us get off the ground then. That’s Jefferson and Graham.”

Emma blinked at the picture again. Sure enough, now that she had names to go with the aged down faces, she recognized both of the men as members of Heartless. She shook her head. “It’s so weird that you know them. I mean, I’ve heard them on the radio.”

“Emma, you’ve been played on the radio.”

“Just in Storybrooke, it doesn’t count. Those guys are, like, actually kinda famous now.”

Regina only rolled her eyes. Apparently this ended their little jaunt to the past, because Emma suddenly found herself being dragged out to dance. She wasn’t that much of a dancer on her own, but Regina kept her close, and didn’t let her embarrass herself too much. Emma forgot all about the photograph before long.

It wasn’t until much later, when they were driving back to Storybrooke in the early hours of the morning, that Regina finally answered the question Emma had already forgotten asking her.

“There is something I want to do.”

Confused and drowsy, Emma blinked blearily at her date from the passenger seat of the Mercedes. “Huh?”

“For the final Takeover. There is something I want to do.” Emma sat up, confused still but completely alert. Regina smirked. “But I need your help to do it.”

Emma didn’t even need to think about it. “I’m in. What’s the plan, boss?”

* * *

Not quite ten days later, their plan was finally in motion. The Regals hadn’t been seen or heard from in more than two weeks, and speculation on their final Takeover had finally died down in resignation when no clues were forthcoming in any of the usual hiding spots. Emma made sure the Lost Girls got a last minute gig at the Rabbit Hole the night before the Regals were due to perform at the Broken Clock, and they were playing to a full house. It seemed like everyone in town, and maybe even some from surrounding towns, had packed themselves in to watch what they were all hoping would be the final Takeover of the Evil Regals.

Having inside information as to the other band’s intentions, Emma was still startled to find that knowing that there was going to be a Takeover didn’t stop her from being nervous about it. She knew that the other Lost Girls were noticing it, knew that she was too jittery to justify it by saying she was just nervous for the show, but she just couldn’t help it. And if the look on Ruby’s face was any indication, she was being really annoying about it. So when their instruments cut out during the beginning of Where Is My Mind?, Emma was relieved.

Ruby, on the other hand, was pissed. She jabbed a red nail into Emma’s chest. “You knew! You knew and you didn’t tell us!” Emma just grinned sheepishly and scuffed her foot. Ruby blew out a violent breath and shook her head, muttering, “Un-fucking-believable.”

Belle laid a calming hand on her arm. In the corner of Emma’s eye, she saw a spotlight come on, and illuminate Gold and his violin. He dragged his bow across it slowly, playing the instrument like a snake charmer. It was really pretty, and Emma had to wonder if it was an original composition because so far, she wasn’t recognizing it.

“Emma, what do we do?” Belle whispered.

Emma cut her eyes to the side of their stage, and grinned at what she saw there. To her band mates, she shook her head. “Nothing.”

Belle frowned, and tightened her grip on Ruby’s arm when the guitarist strained toward Emma. Calmly, she asked, “What do you mean, nothing?”

“Nothing,” Emma repeated, as she started toward where Regina was waiting for her. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this one.”

Hidden half in the shadows off stage, Emma leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Regina’s lips as she grasped her acoustic around the neck. “Ready for this?”

“Everything is all set up,” Regina confirmed, as Zelena led the Evil Regals into the beginning lyrics of a song Emma knew she had never heard before.

“I can’t believe you’re letting us interrupt an original song,” Emma muttered.

Regina’s grin was wicked. “The look on Zelena’s face will be well worth it, dear. Shall we?”

“We shall.” She strapped the acoustic over her head, and walked out with Regina.

“What the fuck is this?” Ruby hissed when they got close enough, and Regina began adjusting one of the mics to her height.

Emma frowned at the scowl on her best friend’s face. “Regina just wanted to do something different for the last Takeover.”

“And you couldn’t have told us about it?”

Emma wanted to explain it, but Regina was impatiently waiting. Zelena was reaching the end of the first chorus and they were about to stage their own Takeover. So she just smiled apologetically at her band and walked over to her mic.

“They’re pretty mad.”

“They’ll get over it,” Regina said carelessly. “Are you ready?”

Emma grinned, her unease melting away, replaced instead with excitement. She loved performing with Regina and she couldn’t wait for everyone to see how awesome they were together when they weren’t trying to overpower one another.

“Let’s do it.”

Right on cue, the Evil Regals cut out. As one, the audience gasped. Emma couldn’t contain her grin; they actually fucking gasped! The band kept playing for a few moments, and Mal’s drum beats held a waver of confusion as she slowly trailed off into silence. Emma had a brief moment to register that the look of disbelief on Zelena’s face was, indeed, worth it, before a spotlight over her and Regina snapped on and washed the crowd in black.

Following the usual Takeover routine, neither she nor Regina talked to the audience. Regina just began strumming the beginning of the Evil Regals’ last recorded cover song, Wicked Game. Emma let her lead for a moment, and then joined in. When it came time to begin the first verse, Regina took the lead, her voice raspy and slow as she made Emma shiver with the start of the song.

_“The world was on fire and_   
_No one could save me but you_   
_It’s strange what desire will_   
_Make foolish people do”_

There was a low murmur through the crowd as Regina captured them. Emma added her voice to the next lines, just lightly, underlining what Regina was singing with more strength.

_“I never dreamed that_   
_I’d meet somebody like you_   
_No I never dreamed that_   
_I knew somebody like you”_

She couldn’t help the way her eyes cut sideways at the brunette beside her. It seemed that Regina felt the same way, too, because when she looked, she found brown eyes already looking back at her. Emma couldn’t read the emotion in them, but it made her quake, it was so profound. That was how they sang the chorus, staring at one another instead of their crowd.

Regina allowed her voice to raise and waver as she sang, _“No I don’t want to fall in love with you”_

Emma’s quiet voice broke off from Regina’s to croon, _“This world is only gonna break your heart”_

They repeated that, and then Regina took lead again to sing,

_“What a wicked game to play,_   
_To make me feel this way_   
_What a wicked thing to do_   
_To make me dream of you”_

They weren’t moving for this song, both of them just standing there strumming their guitars, glancing at one another every so often, so they’d had to get creative about how their voices interacted with one another. By now, Emma felt like she knew all the ways Regina’s voice crackled and husked for this song, and all the ways she could use her own voice to compliment it. She grinned, half at her partner and half to herself, as she wove her voice around Regina’s for the next part.

_“What a wicked thing to say,_   
_You never felt that way_   
_What a wicked thing to do_   
_To make me dream of you”_

They repeated the chorus, this time looking into the inky black where their audience was. Emma knew she and Regina sounded amazing, and she knew that they performed together seamlessly. The crowd wasn’t making any noise at all, not even the random whistles and catcalls that usually erupted during the slower, more somber songs like this one. Emma grinned around the words of the next verse, a near repetition of the first so Emma could play with the way she skipped her voice in and out of Regina’s. They were close enough that she could feel the other woman shuddering slightly beside her, just little tremors as Emma’s voice lifted high and drifted away again. It satisfied Emma more than she had ever expected, that she seemed to have the same affect on Regina that Regina had on her.

_“The world was on fire and_   
_No one could save me but you_   
_It’s strange what desire will_   
_Make foolish lovers do”_

Emma blinked; that was a change they hadn’t discussed before. The clash of Emma singing the proper line and Regina subbing the word ‘people’ for ‘lovers’ seemed to have gone largely unnoticed by the audience, if their silence was any indication. But it set Emma’s heart thumping just that little bit harder in her chest. Regina didn’t even seem to notice that she’d said it. But she did shift a little closer to Emma as they finished the song.

_“I never dreamed that_   
_I’d meet somebody like you_   
_No I never dreamed that_   
_I’d lose somebody like you”_

Emma scooched over just enough for Regina to lean into the mic she was using. She swayed, leaning into the brunette as they finished their duet, feeling the other woman’s breath ghosting along her cheek as they shared the mic.

_“No, I don’t want to fall in love”_

Emma made a split second decision of her own.

_“Love is only gonna break you heart.”_

They’d originally planned to sing the ending together, but after Regina’s spontaneous change of wording, Emma didn’t feel guilty about trying out a little change herself. And if Regina was surprised by it, she didn’t show it except to angle herself a little closer to Emma. Emma did the same, till she could practically feel the shape of Regina’s lips curving around the shape of the song’s final line.

_“Nobody loves no one.”_

They stepped away, chests heaving with emotion rather than exertion, and even while the crowd went insane with applause, Emma and Regina could only stare at one another.

* * *

“If we hurry, we can avoid your band and mine,” Regina murmured, throwing an enticing grin in Emma’s direction.

Emma groaned at the expression; the last time Regina had smirked at her like that, they’d ended up in the back seat of the Bug, enthusiastically fogging up the windows. She knew that if she followed that smile, she would end up having a lot of fun tonight. But she’d already fixed one rift in her band recently, and she wasn’t keen on causing another. Making sure no one was around to see them, Emma curled her fingers into the waistband of Regina’s leather pants and yanked her through the nearest door.

“I’m definitely taking a rain check on that,” she murmured, pushing Regina up against the door and leaving light kisses on her neck. She loved the way Regina curled her fingers into the baby hairs at the nape of her neck when they were close like this, even if it was severely testing her resolve. “But I should stay and do damage control. They were really pissed at me.” Regina pouted, and Emma let out another sound that was half a laugh, and half a groan. “Oh my god, stop. Your lips are ridiculous, it’s not fair!”

“Why on earth would I play fair?” Regina leaned her head back against the door. “I promise that what I have planned would be much more fun.”

And the best part was, Emma knew that Regina probably did have something planned for them. Even if it was just another night of drinks and conversation at Ingrid’s, Regina wasn’t just planning on stealing her away to make out. Well, probably that too, but not only that. And Emma deeply wanted to go, because talking with Regina was every bit as good as making out with Regina. That was a little bit of a revelation for her, since most of her past relationships tended to be based mostly on physicality. For just a moment, she considered just taking Regina’s hand and leaving with her.

Finally, though, she sighed heavily, and shook her head. “I have no doubt about that, trust me. But you know we need to make nice. Your show tomorrow will suck if Zelena is still pissed at you.” Regina’s pout intensified, but Emma just laughed and kissed it lightly. “You know I’m right.”

“I know no such thing.” Regina tilted her face away from Emma stubbornly, but her fingers slid down Emma’s back and into her pockets, squeezing gently. “But if you’re sure that I can’t tempt you away with me…”

Emma rolled her eyes. “They should call you the Evil Queen,” she growled, and swallowed Regina’s chuckle with a kiss. She gently untangled their bodies as it ended, and moved Regina away from the door. “But as tempting as you are, I just got Ruby to stop being mad at me, and I don’t want her pissed at me again. So I will see you tomorrow night, after your show, and we can do anything you want.”

Regina’s eyes gleamed wickedly. “Oh, I will not forget that you said that.”

“I would be disappointed if you did. Go on, get out of here.”

“And you’ll really be there tomorrow?” The brunette’s eyes shifted up and away as she asked the question, and Emma melted a little and the insecurity.

“Of course I will. Where else could I possibly want to be?”

“Okay.” Reassured, Regina was right back to her cocky, flirty self. She blew a cheeky kiss at Emma, and slipped out the door. Emma grinned, and shook her head at herself. She hoped she never got over the fact that she and Regina were so easy with one another; this awed feeling was much too wonderful to lose.

Deliberately waiting until she’d given Regina an adequate amount of time to go, Emma finally went in search of her own band. She wasn’t sure why she’d never considered that they might be upset with her for keeping the Takeover a secret from them, but now she felt kind of stupid for not realizing they would be. She’d even organized their own show last minute just to keep the Takeover to herself. In hindsight, it wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done. She was already trying to put together a coherent explanation for why she’d done it as she walked back to the stage.

But the Lost Girls weren’t on the stage when Emma got there. Tina’s drum kit was gone, and Belle’s bass and Ruby’s guitar, but both of Emma’s were still on their stands where she’d left them. She didn’t see the girls as she packed her equipment up, and by the time she was making her way to the parking lot, she was half hoping that they’d maybe gotten into a fight with the Evil Regals on their way out. Because the other option left a hard knot in the pit of her stomach.

There was no fight happening in the parking lot. There wasn’t even any evidence that the Evil Regals were still there. And the Lost Girls, Emma finally realized dismally, were definitely already gone. The Bug was alone in the lot, when before, Belle’s hatchback had been parked right next to it. They’d left without her.

Even knowing they were upset, Emma hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t expected the Lost Girls to walk off the stage before she and Regina had even finished their duet. Emma had even designed their set list so that they could close out their show with songs that complimented Wicked Game. She hadn’t actually meant to sabotage her own band; she hadn’t even realized she could. After all, they’d never let the Regals chase them off before.

But the Lost Girls hadn’t surrendered to the Evil Regals, she knew. They’d abandoned Emma. Knowing full well how Emma would feel about that, about being left behind yet again, they’d still abandoned her. And even though she knew she’d messed up, she didn’t think she deserved this.

She threw her guitars into the back seat, blinking rapidly against the moisture building up in her eyes. She wasn’t going to cry over this. That was stupid, and she wasn’t going to do it. “Should have just gone with Regina,” she muttered, squealing her tires a little as she tore out of the parking lot. On a normal night, she’d be heading out with the rest of her band for a celebratory drink. Instead the others were probably toasting their decision to kick her out of the band altogether while she went home alone.

It wasn’t until she was actually pulling into her normal spot at her building that she realized Belle’s car was there too. She slammed her brakes on, blinking at the vehicle in confusion. The others had left her at the Rabbit Hole alone, just to drive back to Emma’s apartment? What the hell? Were they going to kick her out of the band tonight? For a moment, Emma considered not going inside. She thought about just putting her car in reverse and getting the hell out of there. She could go to Ingrid’s by herself; at this point, she knew the bartender well enough that she knew Ingrid wouldn’t question why she was alone, and she was pretty sure that none of the other Lost Girls knew it existed. If they wanted to boot her from the band she’d created, they’d just have to be disappointed for tonight.

She was a split second away from shifting into reverse when suddenly, she was pissed off. Pissed at herself, pissed at her friends, pissed that they were going to chase her out of her own damn apartment and pissed that she was going to let them! She slammed her foot back down on the gas and jerked the Bug into it’s spot. She was going to go up there and kick them the hell out of her home.

Someone in her apartment had switched on the music, and it was up so loud that Emma could hear it as she stormed up the stairs. Scowling, she threw her door open and dropped both guitars on the floor. Not even bothering to close her door, she marched over to the computer and slammed the lid shut. The others watched her with open mouths from the couch.

“What the hell, you guys?” she demanded, her voice nearly at a shout. Why not, since all her neighbors had been woken up with the late night dance party in her apartment anyway? “I get that you’re pissed off but did you seriously have to leave me?”

“Oh please!” Ruby snarled back, refusing to get up from where she was lounging on Mary Margaret’s favorite armchair. “You pretty much sold us out to the Evil Regals. What did you expect?”

“Um, not this?” Emma crossed her arms. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just thought this would be more fun!”

Belle walked over to Ruby and laid a restraining hand on her shoulder when the taller brunette seemed like she was about to leap from her seat. “What do you mean fun?”

Emma ran a hand through her hair, sighing heavily. “What does it matter? I fucked up. Go ahead and, I don’t know, punish me, or whatever.”

“Punish you?” Belle frowned.

“Yeah, like…tell me you want me out of the band, whatever you came here to do. How did you even get in here?”

“Why would you think we were going to kick you out of the band?”

Emma scowled at Belle. “Like that isn’t what you’re all here for?”

“I was just annoyed,” Tina interrupted abruptly, a small dejected frown marring her lips. “But now I feel kinda bad. We’d never ask you to leave the band, Emma.”

“We wouldn’t be the Lost Girls without you,” Belle agreed. “Even if we are upset with you right now.”

Ruby stubbornly crossed her arms and didn’t look at Emma. But Emma was just blinking at Belle and Tina, confused. “So why are you here then?”

“We just needed to cool off before we talked to you. You did make us feel pretty stupid out there, Emma.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Emma protested. “I just thought you’d have fun with it if you didn’t know. You know, like the first time there was a Takeover?” She shrugged. “Anyway, I guess I just kind of assumed that you’d assume that the Regals would show up tonight anyway. Since it was their last chance and all.”

“Oh, we knew they were coming,” Ruby muttered. “That wasn’t the point. The point is that you lied to us.”

“It wasn’t really lying, was it?” Tina asked, worrying her lip between her teeth.

Ruby huffed. “She still should have told us.”

“Maybe I should have. But you just would have been angry at me for wanting to do a duet with Regina anyway.”

Ruby stood and stood in front of Emma, jabbing her in the chest with a finger. “We should have played it out like we always did! That should have been our Takeover!”

“It was Regina’s idea!” Emma cried, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “She planned the whole thing just to piss her sister off!”

That shut the rest of them up. After a moment of stunned silence, Tina snickered a little. “Did she really?”

“Yeah, she did,” Emma confirmed. “That’s all it was, Regina just wanted to get under Zelena’s skin a little, and I thought you guys might think it was kind of funny too. But it wouldn’t have worked as well if you knew it was coming.”

The three exchanged glances. Emma waited awkwardly while they seemed to discuss something among themselves without actually saying anything. She wasn’t quite sure what was going on anymore, but they didn’t seem that mad at her anymore either, so she wasn’t about to risk messing that up by interrupting them.

Tina’s snicker turned into giggles. Belle joined her soon after, and even Ruby was smiling. “I guess she did look pretty angry.”

“It was fun to watch them try to figure out what was happening,” Tina added.

“I never knew drums could sound _confused_ before,” Belle agreed, cackling.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Emma apologized.

“And we’re sorry we ran out on you.” Belle came over and squeezed Emma’s arm reassuringly.

Tina joined their little huddle. “Yeah, that was pretty shitty of us. Especially since we got so mad at you for doing the same thing to us that one time.”

“We won’t do that again,” Ruby added, firmly. She seemed to make up her mind not to be mad anymore all at once, and punched Emma lightly in the shoulder. “No matter how much you piss us off.”

Emma made a show of rubbing her shoulder in exaggerated offense, just so she could have a moment to blink back yet more tears gathering in her eyes. The others probably saw them even though she tried to hide it. But they didn’t say anything about it, just smiled at her. And just like that, the fight was over, and everything was back to normal. It happened so quickly Emma almost felt like she had whiplash. But now she was glad she’d come back here, instead of running off to let her hurt fester. It was much better this way.

She bumped shoulders with Ruby as she headed into the kitchen. “You guys are jerks. Let’s make french fries.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used in this chapter:  
> Wicked Game, by Chris Issak
> 
> Additionally, I used the video for Henry Lee, by Nick Cave and PJ Harvey, as the inspiration for the feel behind the duet. If you haven't seen it already, check it out. You've never seen anything quite like it.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Evil Regals perform.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READERS BEWARE: HERE THERE BE MONSTERS. PLEASE CHECK THE TAGS. THIS IS YOUR TRIGGER WARNING!
> 
> Warning for SI behavior and aftermath.

_End of An Era_  
_Astrid Nova_

_When the Lost Girls announced their last minute show at the Rabbit Hole, I don’t think I was the only fan hoping that the Evil Regals would use it to seize their final chance to stage one last Takeover. After all, the Lost Girls were the band that transformed the Takeovers from something unique to something incredible. If any band deserved the honor of hosting the final Takeover, it was certainly them._

_At first, when the Regals did indeed take over and began with an unfamiliar and haunting violin, it seemed that we were going to hear the first Evil Regal original composition since before their disappearance. But, and I can’t believe I’m writing this, what we actually heard ended up being so much better. Soon after the Regals began playing, front woman Regina Mills, along with Lost Girls lead vocalist Emma Swan, staged their own Takeover._

_Performing an acoustic cover of the Chris Isaak song Wicked Game, the two leading ladies stunned their audience with a powerful, emotional performance. Their past duels have already showcased a surprising amount of chemistry, but it is nothing compared to what they can do when working together. The performance itself was sedate, with neither woman moving away from her microphone. But the energy flowing between them was electric._

_While the two focused on one another with an intensity that was almost eerie, this uncanny duet managed to feel so intimate that I nearly felt like I was intruding on something private, instead of standing in a crowded bar. I know too that I was not the only one to feel that way. It’s enough to make a girl wonder if they’re truly the rivals they’ve always appeared to be. Personally, I hope not, because it would be criminal of them to deprive their fans of such powerful collaborations like this in the future. It was truly a performance I will never forget, and an unexpectedly beautiful swan song to the Regal Takeovers._

* * *

The club was packed, as Emma had well known that it would be. Standing room only, hell. They were crushed against one another like sardines in a can. Emma was sure that if the authorities were called tonight, they would find the bar at least fifty people over max capacity, minimum.

Ruby clutched her wrist as she forced her way through the crowd. Tina was holding on to Ruby's belt, and Belle had Emma's other wrist clasped tightly between her fingers. Emma took advantage of the fact that they were popular enough to be recognized as the Lost Girls and flirted her way up to the bar. The bartender gave them a terse nod as they approached but didn't otherwise acknowledge them. He was being slammed with order after order anyway. He and his two other colleagues were frantically flitting around behind the bar, somehow moving seamlessly with one another, never crashing into each other despite a few near misses.

“This is fucking insane!” Ruby yelled over the dull roar of the crowd. “There are more people here than I even knew existed in this shitty little town!”

Emma nodded in agreement. “It’s insane alright. Let’s make sure we keep Tink close! We might loose her in this crowd!”

Tina scowled at them. “Oh, fuck you two. Fuck you two with something hard and sand papery. I’ll be just fine. I know how to bite! You just worry about yourselves!”

They laughed at her, and she stomped one booted foot petulantly. She crossed her arms and turned her face away, pointedly ignoring them all. Belle took the opportunity to lean in close and say, “Did you know there was supposed to be an opening band?”

Emma blinked. “There was?” Regina hadn’t said anything about that. Not that they had spoken that much about what would happen tonight. Regina would never admit it, but Emma knew that she was nervous.

“Is there not anymore?” Ruby demanded right on the tail end of Emma’s question.

Belle shook her head. “No. I think it was supposed to be King of Hearts. The Regals told them not to show up and then ripped into management for booking them to begin with.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Emma demanded.

“Oh yes,” Belle nodded, grinning.

“They have some seriously huge balls,” Ruby said admiringly.

“I love walking into conversations about me!”

As one the Girls turned, unsurprised to find that the one that had issued the horrible joke was none other than Killian Jones. Neal, Robin, and August were behind him, and they all at least had the decency to look embarrassed by their front man’s horrible sense of humor.

“Ignore him,” August requested as he slid in next to Tina. She obligingly made room for him, and none of the girls failed to notice the way she tucked herself behind his taller frame. Ruby actually elbowed Emma in the ribs and pointed, smirking. Emma rolled her eyes.

“He’s actually already pretty drunk,” Neal added ruefully.

“We found him doing shots with Mary Margaret’s boyfriend,” Robin added with a grimace. “They were deep into a bottle of fireball.”

Emma blinked. “I’m sorry. Fireball? With David Nolan?” That just did not compute. Well. The part with Killian did. She’d actually seen him chug fireball right from the bottle before, it was one of the most disgusting things she’d ever witnessed. But the part where he was doing shots with David? That was the part she found completely unbelievable.

Neal shrugged. “I guess. We’re not really sure what was happening.”

“David is not a bad fellow,” Killian intoned, and now that she was looking for it, Emma could hear the slight slur to his words, and see the way he swayed on his feet just a little. “Can’t hold his liquor though.”

“I didn’t expect that Mary Margaret would show up,” Ruby said into Emma’s ear. Of course Emma had mentioned to her roommate that the Evil Regals were finally coming back to full performances. Mary Margaret had been smug about it too, reminding Emma that she’d told them all it would happen sooner or later. “She loves us and she won’t even come see us play.”

Emma nodded distractedly. She was already scanning the crowd for their friend. Ruby smacked the back of her hand across Emma’s chest, and shook her head. “Let me.”

Ruby turned and walked purposefully toward the bar. Emma noticed she had no trouble getting through; she smiled and people parted the crowd for her without a second thought. When she got to the bar, she leaned right up and over it, squeezing in between two big guys who, once they realized what she was doing, scooted over and made room for her. Ruby snagged the attention of one of the harried bartenders. As she spoke to him, her hands waved around, gesturing wildly. At first the bartender shook his head, over and over. Ruby leaned further and further over the bar as she kept talking, until finally the bartender heaved a sigh and nodded. Then he was gone, at the other end of the bar serving drinks to a frenzied Evil Regal crowd.

Ruby turned to the guys standing next to her next. She indicated the crowd a couple times, then the bar. The men looked at her, then at each other, and then one of them went for the nearest bar stool and kicked its occupant out. He dragged the stool over to where Ruby was waiting. Right before the two men took her hands and helped her up on the stool, Ruby caught Emma’s eyes and winked. Emma just shook her head in disbelief.

“We can’t take her anywhere,” Belle muttered when she saw what was going on.

“No, we really can’t,” Emma agreed. They stood shoulder to shoulder and watched Ruby together. Her two volunteers held on to her at the calves to make sure she didn’t fall. Finally, after a few minutes of this ridiculous position, Emma felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to look behind her and found Mary Margaret there, chewing her lip nervously as she too observed Ruby on the stool.

“She’s incorrigible,” Mary Margaret said, with a shake of her head and a smile.

“That she is,” Belle nodded. “Emma and I were just discussing that ourselves.”

“Well, she can come down now, she’s making me very nervous.” Indeed, Mary Margaret was beginning to fidget a little as she watched the lanky brunette turn slowly on the small stool, despite the fact that she was wearing fairly spindly heels. Luckily, she looked over at Emma a moment later, and saw Mary Margaret with her. She waved enthusiastically—Mary Margaret laughed and waved back, clearly terrified Ruby’s enthusiasm was going to send her toppling off the stool—and then her two helpers assisted her down. She thanked them with a kiss on the cheek each, and the bar stool was returned to its original owner. Ruby strode back over to them with a wide grin.

“You’re ridiculous,” Emma told her flatly.

“You scared me to death!” Mary Margaret scolded her gently.

Ruby’s grin remained in place, unrepentant. When she got close enough, she bent down to engulf the smaller brunette in a hug. “Hey, M Squared! Look at you, all rock-ed up for the night!”

Actually Mary Margaret looked a bit out of place in their crowd. It was a bit like the 90s grunge scene in here, with all the plaid and torn up jeans and scruffy hair. Mary Margaret, on the other hand, had on a nice cream cardigan and tasteful black ballet flats. She rolled her eyes at the taller woman, though she was blushing a little.

“Hush, you,” she muttered in embarrassment. “I probably won’t stay for the whole thing. I just wanted to…” She paused and tilted her head. “Well actually. I’m not entirely sure what I wanted to do.”

“You wanted to check on her,” Ruby clarified. “Because even though you aren’t friends anymore you’ve been worried about her since they disappeared and no one has seen her.” While Mary Margaret’s jaw dropped, Ruby took her hand and squeezed it. “Hey, I know you pretty well by now. Of course I figured out why you’re here.”

Mary Margaret’s shock melted into amusement. “You’re right, of course. That’s exactly why I’m here.”

“Your boyfriend has been doing shots of fireball with Killian Jones,” Emma told her flatly. “You might want to keep an eye on that.”

Mary Margaret grimaced. “He’s a big boy. He knows his limits.” She paused, then looked at Ruby entreatingly. “How does she look?”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Like the Queen, Mary Margaret. Like she’s always looked. She’s fine, M, we promise.”

“But you don’t know her,” Mary Margaret protested.

Emma watched the exchange with interest. Mary Margaret had blatantly refused to speak any more about her past with the brunette singer, even after she revealed what she’d overheard at the radio station. Finally, the day Mary Margaret had actually admitted to being worried about Regina, the day after the park concert, Emma broke down and begged as annoyingly as she knew how, and Mary Margaret still wouldn’t budge. All she would say was that she was happy that Emma was talking with her, though, and she had encouraged her to keep that up.

“Don’t we though?” Mary Margaret jumped when Belle interjected; she and Tina had been so quiet since Mary Margaret had found them, just listening, that they’d actually nearly forgotten they were there. She smiled at the brunette warmly. “We saw Ruby on the bar, we thought we’d make sure everything was alright. Hello, Mary Margaret.”

“What did you mean?” Mary Margaret ignored the greeting in favor of continuing the conversation. Emma caught Ruby’s eyes and nodded her head toward their teacher friend, questioning. Mary Margaret seemed on the verge of panicking, and that was starting to freak her out a little. But Ruby just shrugged and rolled her eyes. She had about as good an idea as Emma.

“I just meant,” Belle explained. “That we play with her fairly often.”

“Against her,” Tina interjected.

“Against her,” Belle agreed. “But she’s good. They’re all…good. And you know Emma talks to Regina like, every time there’s a Takeover.”

“She’s kind of rude, actually,” Emma said suddenly. “And she was fairly awkward about us becoming friends.” She didn’t mention the part where she’d actually just begun dating the other singer. That was still too new, and this was certainly not the time or place for that discussion. “But I think she has fun when we challenge them. I think she mostly agreed to hang out with me so she could insult me and stuff.”

A smiled finally turned Mary Margaret’s lips. “That does sound like Regina. She’s always been happiest when she has someone to fight with. She used to start these arguments, just because she could, you know? And then she’d just stand there and smirk.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

Mary Margaret patted Emma’s shoulder. Ruby rolled her eyes at them both and slipped between them. She threw one arm around Mary Margaret’s shoulders, and pulled her close. Emma could see the smaller woman grimacing, and felt her own lips smile, because she knew exactly what was about to happen.

“ _So_ ,” Ruby started forcefully. “How long do we have to disappear for to get you to come see a Lost Girls show?”

* * *

Emma was into it. Just like everyone else here tonight, Emma was really, really into this show. Any worries any of them had, even superficial ones, that the Evil Regals couldn’t handle a full set had been wiped away from the beginning, and now that they were nearing the end, or so Emma calculated based on the length of the set so far, she realized that she’d lost herself to the performance practically the moment that the Queen had opened her mouth.

Mary Margaret’s fears seemed to be unfounded. The band might be different, yes, Emma thought as she swayed to the steady beat being set up while Gold set his violin down in its stand so he could pick up his guitar, but that didn’t seem to be a bad thing.

She nudged at Mary Margaret while the music was still quiet. “See?” she asked. “They’re doing alright.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes didn’t seem convinced. “They’re so different, though, Emma. _She’s_ so different.”

Emma looked up at the stage, where Regina was standing at the microphone stand. Her eyes were closed, her hand gripping the mic loosely. The other hand hung by her side, fingers twitching sporadically. Her lips were moving but she wasn’t singing. Something about it made Emma’s lips turn down but she couldn’t pinpoint what it was; she, after all, had no reference point for what she was seeing. This was the Queen as Emma had always known her. Emma couldn’t wait to catch up with her after the show; she just hoped Regina would wait for her so she didn’t have to hunt her down.

“I don’t know what you’re looking for,” she admitted to her friend. Mary Margaret’s face was pinched, her brows drawn downward like she was fighting off a headache.

Mary Margaret let out a short laugh. “I don’t either, Emma. Maybe I should just find David and go. She wouldn’t want me here anyway.”

For a moment Emma considered asking if she could hear that story someday. But the troubled look in her friend’s eyes held her tongue still. There were a few random and inconsistent cheers, and then the Queen’s voice lifted up and floated out over them, and Emma found herself ensnared again.

_“I’ve got something to say_  
_I’ve acquired a taste for watching you in pain_  
_It’s pretty hard to admit_  
_It makes me feel like shit_  
_But I mean it”_

The words were almost spoken, the Queen’s voice a quiet groan as she winced them out. Mal was tapping her sticks together, swaying forward and back as she waited behind her kit. Gold was tapping his feet out of rhythm with the song, waiting for his turn with his guitar, while Zelena had put her upright on its stand and slipped the strap of an electric bass over her head. She gave it a few experimental, steady strums, just a little as Regina sang the next lines, adding her sound just for a moment.

_“And I know that I’m wrong_  
_The weaker you get, the more I feel strong_  
_So I want you to leave_  
_Wipe your face on your sleeve_  
_And beat it”_

Zelena went still. There was silence, and Emma held her breath for a moment, before Mal and the Zelena came in together. While Emma had been expecting something loud, forceful, something as aggressive as the expression on the Queen’s face, they stayed low and steady, letting Regina showcase their intensity rather than forcing it on the audience themselves.

_“This doesn’t end with you_  
_I walk around and I think if people only knew_  
_That I wish they were cursed,_  
_That I wish them the worst,_  
_I really wish them the worst.”_

Emma watched Regina intently; so far this was the most sedate she’d been the entirety of the show. She hadn’t moved away from the mic stand. She hadn’t taken her hand from the mic itself, though her grip had tightened on it somewhat. She hadn’t even opened her eyes yet. And yet, for some reason, Emma was sure that she was holding something deeply violent just beneath the surface. It was the way she held her body; Emma recognized it from the night she’d turned a Takeover into a challenge, and Regina had circled her like an animal.

Emma felt herself responding to that, too. She was thrumming with energy, waiting for the release. She wasn’t sure it would come; she’d noticed tonight how good the Regals were at that, at riling their audience up and then leaving them hanging at the apex of their sound. They almost always did the opposite of what Emma expected them to do.

_“But I’m doing my best_  
_And I hope you forgive me now that I’ve confessed_  
_Because I’m trying to resist_  
_My heart becoming a fist_  
_Forever”_

Then the Queen’s eyes opened to fix them all with an intense glare; her strange silver and black eye makeup really made them pop, and Emma shivered. This was a Regina she had never seen before; she was pretty sure the woman was actually insane in that moment. The next lines were the chorus, Emma was sure, and when the audience heard the lyrics they went nuts, surging forward to them even though the Queen never raised her voice.

_“Because you can’t, you can’t_  
_You can’t stop a bullet_  
_I’m giving you my trigger_  
_But you better never pull it”_

Fists raised into the air as she repeated those words again, punching the air on every ‘you can’t’. The instruments had stopped but it didn’t matter, the beat was still there. Those crazy dark eyes scanned the crowd, and though Emma knew it was impossible for Regina to actually see the details of her crowd it almost seemed like she was looking for something specific. Next to her, Mary Margaret clutched one hand over her heart.

Regina’s eyes quit their roving. They landed, and Emma could not shake the feeling that they had landed on her.

_“You’ve got something to say_  
_You’ve acquired a taste for watching me in pain_  
_It’s pretty hard to admit_  
_It makes you feel like shit_  
_But you mean it”_

Mary Margaret grabbed Emma’s hand, and Emma frowned at her. Mary Margaret was actually grimacing now, as though Regina were singing directly to her. Emma wondered if that was an actual possibility. She’d only heard of the good times between Mary Margaret and Regina, but Ruby had said that whatever recent past lay between them, it was intense, full of bad feeling and bitterness. Regina herself had confirmed that, the night she found out Emma lived with Mary Margaret and loftily declared the teacher to be a ‘wretched little brat’.

_“What the hell can we do?_  
_I’m a different face of the girl you knew_  
_I’m a hole you’ll fill_  
_For the rest of your life”_

“She’s not okay,” Mary Margaret muttered. “This isn’t okay. Something is very wrong.”

Emma frowned. Like before, when the Regals had done their first Takeover and Ruby had infected her with her enthusiasm, Emma now felt herself catching Mary Margaret’s foreboding. She frowned at the stage, and found dark eyes still fixed on their section of the room. On them? But no. That couldn’t be. The lighting wouldn’t allow for the Queen to see anything but a dark blur. She studied Regina intently, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. This was the Queen that Emma had been seeing on stage since the night of the very first Takeover: intense, focused, passionate, maybe a little crazy but in an engaging way. They were all a little nuts anyway, Emma thought; they had to be to do what they did.

_“Because you can’t, you can’t_  
_You can’t stop a bullet_  
_I’m giving you my trigger_  
_But you better never pull it_

_You can’t, you can’t_  
_You can’t stop a bullet_  
_I’m giving you my trigger_  
_But you better never pull it”_

She reeled away from the mic stand then as the rest of her band forcefully took over the song. Gold and Zelena took their places at center stage. The Queen was backing away, maybe to the water bottle that she had resting on an amp near the Mal’s drum kit. The audience was thrashing now, jumping in time to the music, and the lighting was good enough that Emma saw something sail through the air toward the stage, before security could stop the person who had been poised to throw it.

Emma was no stranger to things being thrown to her on stage. Nor was it uncommon for things to simply land up there with her by accident. The only thing she didn’t like about outdoor shows was that there was never an appropriate barrier, so people got too close to the stage. And whenever there was an outdoor show, some asshole invariably started tearing up the sod and throwing it. She couldn’t count how many times she’d avoided a flying dirt clod.

Or how many times she hadn’t.

Whatever it was that had been thrown landed at the Queen’s feet and shattered; a spray of liquid and glass shot up towards her face. She flinched backward while she gave the broken glass time to settle. Security was pushing their way through the crowd, trying to figure out what person or people were responsible for the glass that had almost hit the Queen in the face.

While that was happening, Regina was staring down at the glass. She didn’t look pissed or confused or anything. Then she swiftly bent, and did something with the glass Emma couldn’t see. She assumed it was to bring it to a pile, though it was a risk with no gloves on, and wasn’t that an incredibly stupid thing to do? But then she turned her back on the audience. Her arms moved, but Emma couldn’t tell what she was doing.

Mal’s eyes went wide. She raised herself half out of her seat, though she never stopped playing, and leaned forward for a clearer view of what her singer was doing. Her eyes got even bigger, and Emma felt her chest hitch because she was pretty sure the drummer was panicking.

“What’s wrong, Mal?” Emma barely caught Mary Margaret’s words. She was too busy watching what was happening on stage; Mal’s actions had gotten the attention of the other two, and they drifted backward to see as well. Zelena’s mouth tightened, and she met the Gold’s eyes across whatever it was the Queen was actually doing. He looked worried, yes, and perhaps they were all a little frightened but ultimately he shrugged, as if asking them what they were expected to be doing about it anyway.

What the fuck was happening right now? Emma grabbed Mary Margaret’s hand and plowed them forward. At first Mary Margaret resisted, crying, “No, Emma, I hate the pit, I can’t, what if she sees?”

But Emma wouldn’t let go of her arm. She knocked people out of the way, forcefully shoving her way closer to the stage. She wanted to see what was happening. She wanted to know if she was about to see Regina do something new.

She shouldn’t have worried about it. Because in the next moment, just as Emma had gotten her and Mary Margaret to the middle of the crowd, lined up with the mic stand, Regina turned around and Emma gasped when she saw what had happened. The crowd, though, they went absolutely wild. Fists hit the air, mouths opened in ragged and primal screams, and all Emma and Mary Margaret could do was stand there and stare in horror.

The Queen was bleeding now. She was bleeding heavily, and from both arms. In one of her fists she was clutching a large shard of the broken glass. In the hand not holding onto it, Emma could just barely make out a few lines of blood there, from where she’d held the glass to carve out her gruesome message to the rest of the world.

She raised her arms over her head to put them on display, and there was another fierce rolling thunder of audience approval. Emma watched the blood run down the Queen’s arms, and wondered if they would be seeing an ambulance before the night was out.

On her arms, the Queen had carved EVIL REGAL using a bit of broken bar glass.

Dripping blood onto the stage, the Queen went back to her mic and grabbed it. Emma was close though to see the drops of red hitting the stage floor. The Queen didn’t even seem to notice that she was making a mess. Mary Margaret was clutching Emma’s hand hard enough that Emma wouldn’t be surprised if some fingers were broken. But she was clutching back just as hard.

Emma’s mind flashed, suddenly, to the brown leather fake storybook in her bedroom at home. The book that she’d been withholding from the Queen out of fear of ruining their new, blooming relationship. She thought about all the many, many pages in that book where the Queen was smiling and happy and so in love with the little boy in each and every picture. The woman in those pictures didn’t compare to what she was seeing on stage, the woman who had just mutilated herself as, what? Part of her stage show?

She thought of what that little boy would think if he could see his mother now. Of what he _would_ say, if and when he saw what she’d done to herself. How would she even begin to explain this?

Mary Margaret, when Emma looked down at her, was crying. Not sobbing, not even really crying so that anyone else might notice. But Emma could see the tears slipping down her cheeks.

On stage, the Queen started singing again, screaming into the microphone.

_“You can’t, you can’t_  
_You can’t stop a bullet_  
_I’m giving you my trigger_  
_But you better never pull it!”_

A deep frown pulled at Emma’s lips and suddenly she was furious. What the fuck was wrong with this woman? Did she think this was funny? Sure, the crowd was going crazy for it. But crowds were fucking stupid. Everyone knew that. Crowds filled water bottles with rocks and threw them at each other. They started circle pits and mosh pits and they regularly beat the shit out of each other because they thought it was _fun_. Because it was _metal_. Because they fucking could, really. So of course they saw this and wanted more.

_“You can’t, you can’t_  
_You can’t stop a bullet_  
_I’m giving you my trigger_  
_But you better never pull it!”_

Looking at the Queen, she thought maybe it was too late. The trigger had been pulled. And judging from the looks that Zelena and Gold kept exchanging over their instruments, Emma knew that none of them had seen this coming. They were just as surprised as she was. That made Emma feel cold; she at least could reason that she hadn’t seen this coming because she just didn’t know the woman that well. But who knew her better than her band? Than her _sister?_ But they hadn’t anticipated this either. None of them had.

_“You can’t, you can’t,_  
_You can’t stop a bullet_  
_I’m giving you my trigger_  
_But you better never pull it!”_

Mary Margaret tugged on Emma’s arm. Emma looked down at her, and her heart broke for the anguish she saw in her friend’s face. She pulled Emma close and said into her ear, “I think I need to go, Emma. I can’t—”

“I’ll come with you!”

The crowd was really working itself into a frenzy now. They were thrashing and slamming into one another and Emma was pretty sure there was going to be moshing happening if security didn’t get there first. There was no way tiny, sweet Mary Margaret was going to get out of this crowd alive. So Emma tucked the brunette behind her and began elbowing her way out.

Everyone had drifted toward the stage, pressing in as close as they could, so the back of the bar was relatively empty. Emma burst free of the press of bodies quite suddenly and stumbled a little in the empty space. Mary Margaret was close behind her, and almost as soon as she was free, David was upon them, sweeping her into a tight embrace. He glared at Emma over her shoulder.

“How was I even supposed to know?” she demanded of him defensively. His glare softened, but only a little. Mary Margaret folded herself into his embrace, and allowed him to lead her off the floor. Emma watched them leave, grateful to not have Mary Margaret here watching this train wreck of a show.

Emma turned back to the stage. The Queen’s arms were coated in red now. It was dripping down her elbows, hitting the floor in little splashes, staining her shirt and pants and skin. There were little streaks of it on her face, transferred when she bent close to the mic she was singing into. She didn’t even notice.

Emma was thinking of the little boy again. The one whose name she didn’t know, but whom the Queen had labeled Little Prince in her album. He was a happy child, and she was a happy mother. She couldn’t believe that Regina would do something this crazy, this reckless. Something that would surely frighten and confuse her son if he ever found out about it. Emma understood getting caught up in a show, in the adrenaline of having a crowd screaming for you, wanting all of you, demanding it. But as far gone as she’d gone, as into a show as she could get, as crazy and uninhibited as her stage antics could be, she’d never even considered this before. And Emma could hardly believe that it was happening tonight. She might not have known the Regals very long, and she might not know everything about their singer, but she felt like she’d gotten a good measure of what the Queen was like, and how she performed. Sometimes she was feral and passionate but she had never been unaware of herself before. She had an uncanny sense for the stage and her audience. Emma had fed off it and used it for herself before in the past.

The point was, that Emma couldn’t reconcile the Queen she knew, the Queen she’d battled against, the Queen that challenged the way Emma structured and even thought abut her shows, the Queen that had waited for her after a show and gotten drunk with her in an underground bar Emma had never even heard of before, with this woman up here right now, who had just lost herself so completely in something so dark and twisted it had actually made her forget herself in a public forum.

Horrified at what she was seeing, and frightened that this had snuck up on her the way it had, Emma turned and fled the bar. The air outside was a little chilly and nipped at her in exactly the way she needed to feel.

Little Prince was a permanent fixture in her mind’s eye whenever she blinked. She could not help but to picture his face, falling and devastated, if he ever found out what his mother had done tonight. And just as prominent in her mind was the mother that made his expressions happiest. The way the pictures showed her curled around him, in light makeup and pure joy alighting her smile, which Emma was startled to realize she’d only ever seen in pictures. Never had the Queen smiled quite like that around Emma, not even drunk and happy that night at Ingrid’s.

Mary Margaret was right. There was something very, very wrong going on here. And for the sake of that little boy Emma was growing attached to just through photos alone, for the sake of a relationship Emma was coming to treasure though it hadn’t been going on for very long, Emma would not rest until she figured out what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used in this chapter:  
> Stop A Bullet, by Black Light Burns
> 
> Additionally, a note from the author. I have been very nervous getting to this chapter. This is heavy subject matter and I understand that some of you may be upset. Please be aware that this is not something I have taken lightly, nor done for shock value purposes only. This scene was quite literally the first that was written for this story, and I have held it in my mind in each and every scene I've written for Regina. It has been integral to her characterization from the very first moment we met her, and the next few chapters will deal with the aftermath of what just happened. I am drawing heavily on my own experiences in order to make this realistic and respectful. If I am handling something badly, please let me know. But let me know kindly. This isn't easy for any of us.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Emma begins to deal with the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the verbiage in the coming chapters is going to be rough. It's coming from two places: trying to write a realistic reaction, as well as me truly not really being able to understand it from Emma's perspective. If there's something I could be doing better, let me know!

There was a minute after David took Mary Margaret outside, right before Emma herself fled too, where Emma froze. The crowd was still going nuts, and the Evil Regals were starting a new song. Emma couldn’t turn around to look, because she knew she’d hit the roof if she did. She couldn’t understand how the rest of Regina’s band could still be playing even after what they’d just witnessed, and with Regina still standing there, streaming blood. She wanted to charge onto stage and pull Regina off of it; she wanted to hide her away, until she understood exactly what had just happened, and how she could keep it from ever happening again. Either Regina’s band was composed of the biggest assholes in the world, and they just didn’t care as long as the crowd was cheering, or…actually, she couldn’t even think of an or. There was no excuse for this. Everyone in Regina’s band was an asshole.

Sharp pain in her palm drew her out of her thoughts. She looked down, and found that she was clenching her fist so hard, her nails were biting into her skin. She deliberately loosened her fingers, and stepped onto the sidewalk.

“Emma!”

She heard Ruby calling her name behind her, but she didn’t turn or slow down. Ruby caught up with her and walked with her as she pushed her way outside to the parking lot.

“Holy shit,” Ruby breathed when they got there.

Emma’s fingers clenched again, because coming down the street was a police cruiser, and behind it was an ambulance. Their lights were flashing but the sirens were silent, and they weren’t moving very fast.

Ruby put a hand on Emma’s arm. “Hey.”

“What?”

“I was just…checking in,” Ruby squeezed her arm gently. “I know you and Regina are friends.”

Emma almost laughed at that. Friends. They were friends that had been spending nearly all their free time together lately, who happened to make out a lot. They watched as the cop rolled to a stop in front of the bar, the ambulance sneaking up closer to the sidewalk. They kept their lights flashing, even as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. Emma watched the cops speak to the paramedics. One of them was clearly unhappy with what she was being told, but her partner put a calming hand on her shoulder, much in the same way that Ruby was touching her. Emma watched the woman scowl at him, too, but ultimately retreat back to the bus and lean against it as the two officers went inside.

“Emma!”

Belle and Tina basically fell out of the doorway in their haste to pass through at the same time. Tina stumbled, and Belle caught her arm to drag her over. “Hey, we’ve been looking for you.”

“Robin overheard someone call the cops,” Tina blurted. “But I guess you already knew that.”

“Yeah, we figured that out,” Ruby muttered.

“That was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen,” Belle murmured. She almost seemed shell shocked over the whole thing.

“I know,” Tina agreed, suddenly subdued. “That was a lot of blood.”

Emma flinched, but no one noticed. Ruby shook her head. “I didn’t even know you could do that kind of damage with a bar glass, man.”

“Where there’s a will…” Belle shrugged. She squinted at Emma. “Are you okay?”

Emma shook her head. “I sort of feel like I might throw up.”

“You didn’t…I mean, you’re friends with her,” Tina stuttered. “Didn’t you, I don’t know, maybe she said something?”

Emma’s head jerked up; she felt like she’d been slapped. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“I just meant you’ve been hanging out with her!” Tina cowered away from Emma’s glare. “Didn’t you know she was nuts?”

“We’ve known that from the beginning, Tink,” Ruby stepped in before Emma could launch herself at the drummer. “Clearly no one saw this coming.”

Belle seemed like she was going to say something, when the doors opened once more, this time releasing a flood of people. The two cops were in the forefront, one of them trying to keep the crowd from surging too close, the other pushing Regina in front of him with a firm hand between her shoulder blades. Behind them, the other Evil Regals were leading the pack. Zelena and Mal looked furious; Gold looked like he was on the verge of hysterical laughter. Regina met Emma’s eyes as she was led past, and maintained that contact the whole time. Emma shivered, stepping into Ruby a little. Regina barely seemed coherent; her gaze was manic, but also somehow pleading.

Zelena saw what her sister was staring at, and howled. She sprinted toward Emma, and slammed two palms firmly into her shoulders. Emma would have gone flying, if Tina and Belle hadn’t surged in behind her and held her up. Then their fingers were curling around her wrists and shoulders, holding her back, because all at once Emma was out of control. She dragged her friends forward trying to get at the red haired bassist.

“This is your fault!” Zelena was screaming at Emma, her eyes wide and wild. Her lips were twisted up into the ugliest snarl.

Emma struggled against the hands holding her. “How do you fucking figure that, you crazy bitch! She’s your goddamn sister!”

“And you’re her goddamn stalker!” Zelena shrieked back, launching herself again, this time with her fist raised. Emma strained to meet her, wanting Zelena to land the punch so she would have a good reason to fight back. But Mal, who had been torn between the confrontation, and following Regina to the ambulance, suddenly had both her arms around Zelena’s shoulders. For once, the spaced out look in her expression was gone, and Mal just looked fierce and determined. She dragged Zelena away from Emma easily. Zelena was too busy screaming at her to even care that she was basically being carried away. “She was fine until she met you, Swan! I don’t know what you say to her but you’re done! Leave my sister alone!”

“You’re crazy, lady!” Emma shrieked back, once again dragging her friends forward when she threw all her weight into one more lunge. Then the cops were between them, both of them, one of them pushing Zelena and Mal back towards the ambulance, the other pressing Emma and the other Lost Girls toward the crowd. And of course, Emma had forgotten all about them. She had no doubt that pictures and video of this confrontation would be all over the internet by tomorrow. Hell, they were probably already up now. Emma jerked herself out of the cop’s reach, and out of Belle and Tina’s hands too, pushing between them to walk further away. What she wanted was to go over to the ambulance and see Regina for herself. But Zelena was there, the cop talking sternly to her, just as the one over here with them was conversing with Ruby. Emma didn’t know what they were saying, and she didn’t care. When Belle wrapped an arm around her shoulders, Emma let her.

She saw, through the commotion, the female paramedic help Regina up into the back of the ambulance. Zelena immediately shouldered her way in, too. The doors were slammed shut, and this time the sirens did blare as the ambulance backed up. They didn’t speed away, and that felt strange for Emma to watch. She didn’t think she’d ever seen an ambulance with its sirens on driving the speed limit before.

The two cops went back to their cruiser and followed the ambulance, their own lights still going as well. Soon enough, both vehicles were gone around the corner. Emma could practically feel the crowd turn from watching that to watching her, waiting to see what she would do. And what she wanted to do was scream, to call people names and to fight them and to have something better to do than to think about how much she wanted to follow Regina to the hospital even knowing that Zelena would just scream at her there, too.

Ruby grabbed her gently by the elbow. “Come on, Emma. Let’s get you home.”

Emma jerked her arm away. “I know my way home, Ruby, I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but—”

“It’s nice of you to worry but it’s fine,” she insisted. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“If you’re sure…” Ruby trailed off uncertainly. Tina slammed into Emma in a sudden, quick, and fierce hug that ended before Emma had a chance to respond in any way. Belle just smiled at her, reassuring. Emma smiled back. Maybe they could be a little overbearing sometimes, especially for someone like her, who had never had people to answer to before she came here, but their intentions were good and Emma appreciated them.

As she walked to her car, though, any good feeling she’d gained from them was leeched away. Because overwhelmingly, all Emma heard was the dispersing Evil Regal crowd, nearly unanimous in their opinion that this had been the best Evil Regals show they’d ever seen.

* * *

She’d ditched her band so she could have some alone time, both to process what she’d just seen and to worry in private over the fact that her— She wanted to say girlfriend but it wasn’t like they’d discussed official titles yet or anything, but Emma had been hopeful— That _Regina_ was sitting in the hospital right now, and her crazy ass sister wouldn’t even let her get close. But when she got home, not only were the lights on, Emma could smell something happening in the kitchen. Blinking, she went to investigate.

Mary Margaret was standing at the counter, furiously whipping at something in a mixing bowl with a rubber spatula. David was sitting at the table, watching her with worried eyes. He smiled at Emma when she came over and placed her keys on the table.

“What’s going on?” she asked, bewildered. “I thought you took her home.”

David shrugged with one shoulder, his eyes going back to his girlfriend’s frenzied form. “I was going to. But she was worried about you, so she made me stop at the corner store, and now here we are. She’s making brownies.”

Once again, he leveled his gaze at her, staring critically until Emma squirmed and muttered, “What?”

“This is why you asked us about Regina and anxiety, isn’t it?”

Emma felt her stomach plummet. There it was. There was the thing Emma had been trying so hard not to think about since David collected Mary Margaret from her. She barely registered the fact that she’d dropped heavily into a chair before both David and Mary Margaret were at her side. Mary Margaret stepped in close, touching Emma’s face lightly, and that was the first she knew of the tears streaking down her cheeks.

“Zelena’s right,” she choked out. “This was all my fault! I knew something was wrong. I should have seen this coming!”

She dropped her forehead onto Mary Margaret’s hip, and felt her friend’s hand lift up to sift through her hair. “Emma, hush. No one could have seen this coming.”

“You knew something was wrong too,” Emma muttered, almost accusingly. “You haven’t even seen her in years and you took one look at her tonight and knew.”

“Emma, listen to me,” Mary Margaret said firmly, tipping her chin up so she could meet Emma’s eyes. “This is not your fault. Understanding that something is wrong, or recognizing that someone may be suffering from anxiety attacks, does not mean that what happened tonight was in any way predictable.”

Emma heard the words, and her brain understood them to be true, but she stubbornly resisted letting them make an impact. On her other side, David squeezed her shoulder. “She’s right, Emma. You saw the rest of her band. They were all shocked. She kept this from everyone.”

“She didn’t plan it, Emma, it just happened,” Mary Margaret added. “She took herself by surprise tonight, I know that she did. You can’t blame yourself for this.” She took a deep breath. “Especially not if you plan to keep being her friend.” Emma blinked up at her, confused, and suddenly her sympathetic friend was replaced with a stern first grade teacher. “Emma Swan, do not tell me that you aren’t going to stay friends with her because of this! Because if that’s the case, then you are _not_ the person I thought you were.”

Emma shook her head almost frantically, wiping away the last of her tears. “No, of course not! That would be…” She smiled a little, remembering the last time she’d used this phrase, it was to talk about the Evil Regals. “A real _dick_ move.”

“Yes,” David chuckled. “It really would.”

“Now, we can talk about this later,” Mary Margaret said, disentangling herself from Emma and going back over to her mixing bowl. “But for right now, we’re going to finish these brownies and eat them right out of the pan.”

Emma laughed. “Yeah. That’s the best plan I’ve heard all night.”

* * *

“I’m calling in sick tomorrow,” Emma decided, depositing her fork in the brownie pan and flopping over on the couch until she was curled up in the smallest ball she could form. In this position, the top of her head pressed against Mary Margaret’s thigh, and her friend reached down to pat her hair. David had long since given up fighting sleep, and kissed them both on the forehead before retreating to Mary Margaret’s bedroom.

“I love summer,” the teacher sighed, leaning back. “What are you going to do?”

“Find out where Regina is,” Emma immediately replied. “I guess the cops probably took her to the station after she got cleaned up at the hospital, but they probably can’t keep her there long, right?”

“David says no,” Mary Margaret confirmed. “He said that what she did isn’t technically illegal. But since she’s clearly proven she’s a danger to herself, they might keep her for 72 hours in a psychiatric hold. But after that, if they even hold her that long, she’ll be let go.”

“Good,” Emma murmured.

“I’m glad you’re not letting this scare you off,” Mary Margaret admitted. “Regina was always kind of a loner. She needs friends.”

“We’re not friends,” Emma admitted. She pushed her face into the couch cushion and mumbled into it. “We’re kind of dating.” Mary Margaret’s fingers, which had been untangling some of Emma’s hair, went still. Emma waited a breath, then looked up nervously. “Is that okay?”

Mary Margaret blinked. “I—why are you asking me?”

“I don’t know,” Emma shrugged.

“Are you serious?”

Emma’s eyes went wide. “It’s only been three weeks, I’m not even sure I’m allowed to call her my girlfriend yet, we definitely—”

Mary Margaret waved her hand, interrupting. “I meant, are you _being_ serious?”

“Oh. Well, yeah. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Why not?”

Emma sat up again, leaned against the arm of the couch so she could tuck her toes under Mary Margaret’s thigh, and shrugged. “I dunno, we just haven’t told anyone. It’s new. And complicated, I guess.”

Mary Margaret smiled slightly. They were silent for a few minutes, while Emma let her friend have some time to process what she’d just told her. But then she wiggled her toes under the teacher’s leg, and murmured quietly, “Hey Mary Margaret?”

“Yes?”

“I think I know what’s wrong with her.” She winced at her own wording; she didn’t know why she didn’t like saying there was something _wrong_ with Regina, she would never say that to her face, but…well, losing it in public and carving words into your arms wasn’t exactly normal, healthy behavior. Still, she wished she’d phrased it a little better.

Mary Margaret blinked at her, surprised. “Okay?”

“Yeah, wait here.”

As she went to her room to find the photo album, Emma was aware that this was probably not something she should be sharing with anyone. In fact, she knew that she shouldn’t. But she couldn’t keep this secret to herself anymore, and she was suddenly absolutely sure that telling Regina she’d ever had the album wasn’t an option, either.

The book was still in her nightstand. She hadn’t looked at it in long enough that it felt like a foreign weight in her hands now. She traced a finger over the golden lettering on the front cover, and then resolutely marched it back into the living room. She held it out to Mary Margaret.

“What’s this?” the teacher asked, taking the book instinctively. “Fairy tales?”

“Just look inside.”

She did, opening the book to a random page in the middle. There was the little boy, all dressed up for Halloween in a white ruffled shirt and black pants, a plastic sword in his hand, a stuffed parrot sewed to the shoulder of his long coat, and a pirate hat perched jauntily on his head. Regina was with him, holding the kid’s candy bag, black with a big white Jolly Roger on it, in ruffly skirts and a maroon corset over a white blouse, her black hair held back with a bandanna. The kid was grinning widely, and there was a gap in his front teeth, half grown in with the new adult tooth.

“Oh.” Mary Margaret flipped the pages, taking in all the photos with wide, watery eyes, until she reached the very front of the book. She stopped, her finger hovering over the picture of Regina, holding the kid as a newborn, both of them tucked under the arm of the kid’s dad, all of them ready to leave the hospital. Mary Margaret looked up at her. “ _Emma_.”

Emma nodded, sinking down to the couch cushions once more. “I know. She’s got a kid.”

“I had no idea,” Mary Margaret breathed.

“That’s sort of the thing,” Emma said. “I don’t think anyone does. I can’t find any information about him like, at all. For whatever reason, they’ve all kept this kid pretty hush hush.”

Mary Margaret flipped to the back of the book, and studied the boy there. “He’s maybe eight or so here. Which would mean he was born right as Heartless was taking off, so yes, I can easily see that they would have wanted to keep a child away from that sort of media attention.” She closed the book, and looked at Emma curiously. “But this doesn’t explain anything that happened tonight.”

“No, it does though,” Emma insisted. “Remember I told you about my foster mom that freaked out, and CPS took us all, even the bio kid?”

Mary Margaret gasped. “You think that’s what happened to Regina’s son?”

Emma shrugged. “It makes sense, don’t you think? For why they disappeared?”

“It makes a terrible kind of sense, yes,” Mary Margaret admitted.

“And she has free time basically every time I ask,” Emma continued. “She can’t be taking care of a kid like that. So whoever got custody, they still have it. And it’s making her crazy.”

Mary Margaret sighed heavily. “This just keeps getting worse.”

“I know,” Emma agreed, mimicking Mary Margaret’s sigh. She crossed her arms. “I need to help her.”

“I knew you were going to say that.” The teacher gave Emma another little pat. “Your lost girl days are over, you know.”

Emma gave her a crooked grin. “Yeah.”

“Well,” Mary Margaret sat up suddenly. “If anyone can do it, it’s you. I really believe that.”

“Thanks, Mary Margaret. That means a lot to me. Can I ask you a question though? Not…about this. Well, kind of about this. I’m just curious about something.”

“I suppose so.”

“What happened with you and Regina?”

Mary Margaret sighed again, deeper and sadder. She gave Emma a mournful smile, and said, “Oh, that’s a long story. But I guess the short answer is that she blames me for Daniel’s death.” Emma felt her eyes get big. “I was the last person to see him alive. And I knew he was acting strangely, and that he shouldn’t be left alone or be allowed to drive. But I let him convince me he was fine, and he died of an overdose in a hotel that night. They said he’d begun using to keep up with the band’s tour schedule. I don’t know. But Regina’s never been able to forgive me for letting him go that night.” Another sigh, and her fingers stroked the cover of the book. “I understand why more than ever now. If I hadn’t been so naive, she would still have Daniel, and her son would still have a father.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Emma parroted back the words Mary Margaret had told her earlier that night. She was reeling from this information, but she knew without a doubt that Mary Margaret couldn’t be blamed for what had happened to Regina’s fiance, just as Emma herself couldn’t be blamed for what Regina had done tonight. “You never could have known what he was going to do.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Mary Margaret agreed, though she did not seem to believe what she was saying. “But it still isn’t an easy thing to live with.” She sighed one last time, and stood. “I’m going to bed now, Emma. May I take this with me?” She held up the book.

“Yeah. I guess so. Goodnight, Mary Margaret.”

She watched Mary Margaret disappear into her room, the book clutched in her hands. And though she laid down on the couch, it was a very long time before she could sleep. She had a lot to think about.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our girls are finally reunited.

When Emma woke the next morning and rolled off the couch, Mary Margaret had already brewed coffee. She was sitting at the kitchen table with a mug and Emma’s laptop. Eyes still blurry, Emma basically stumbled to the coffee pot, fished a mug from the cupboard, and burned a layer of her tongue off gulping the first cup.

“Emma, that is really good coffee,” Mary Margaret scolded, without looking away from the screen. “And now you won’t be able to appreciate it until your taste buds grow back.”

“Ha ha.” Emma stuck her tongue out at her roommate, and dragged a chair over to sit close. She leaned over so she could see the computer screen. “What’s this?”

“Astrid Nova’s blog about the concert last night is already up,” Mary Margaret answered quietly. Then, she lunged over and gave Emma a sound kiss on the temple. “That’s from David. He had to work, but he said he’d text me when he figured out what happened with Regina last night.”

“That’s good. What does Nova have to say?”

“She’s surprisingly neutral,” was the mild reply. “The comments, though…”

Emma pulled the laptop closer and squinted at it. Mary Margaret was right, the actual recap of the show was actually quite bland. She described the whole incident as a stunt, even going so far as to imply that it hadn’t even been real. Emma wasn’t that surprised, though. Nova was a hardcore Evil Regals fan, and last night had been pretty freaky. She was probably just trying to do a little damage control for the band. But saying it was probably just fake blood, well, that was just desperation. Anyone that had been there knew, there was no doubt that Regina had really cut herself with that glass.

Mary Margaret was right about the comments, too. Skimming them, Emma could divide them pretty firmly into three categories: the people that thought it was brilliant art, the people that thought it was a disgusting cry for attention, and the people that were such obvious trolls that it was probably just War Council posting under different handles. And there were the usual levels of crazy in each of the first two categories, that ranged from coherent to batshit. Emma found herself equally sickened by them all. She scrolled down the page, reading.

_**SleepingWarrior** wrote: Fuck this band. I don’t have the time for this middle school cheap shock value bullshit. I came for the music, not a fucking transfusion._

_**Regalzzzzz** wrote: Regina Mills is clearly an artistic genius! Anyone with a problem with what happened onstage last night just doesn’t appreciate the Queen’s artistic choices! EVIL REGALS 5EVA BITCHES!!!_

_**UpYourrrrrrs!** replied to **Regalzzzzz** : Come on, the woman can sing, but misunderstood genius she is not! There’s a huge difference between artistic choices and freaking out in front of a live audience. Justice Yeldham makes artistic choices. Hell, even GG Allin made choices. Regina Mills had a goddamn psychotic break onstage._

_**Reeperbahn** replied to **UpYourrrrrrs!** : On a scale of Donita Sparks to GG Allin, this was Marilyn Manson level crazy AT BEST. Don’t even try to compare!_

_**DeadOhlinLives** wrote: IM GONNA START SCREAMING SUICIDE AT HER AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS_

_**Anonymous** wrote: Seems like certain other bands were right. The Evil Regals clearly CAN’T handle the pressure anymore! They should have stayed missing._

_**FairestOfThemAll** wrote: Is nobody else worried about the fact that we just witnessed a woman’s desperate cry for help? The rest of the band was SHOCKED by what she did! This WASN’T just a publicity stunt! She clearly needs professional help._

_**Futterwacken** wrote: She can cut herself all she wants, I’d still fuck her._

Emma gagged and pushed the computer away, disgusted. “This is sick.”

“Yes,” Mary Margaret agreed. “It is.”

“David will definitely text you?” Emma’s voice sounded small even to her own ears.

“I promise, Emma. He’ll definitely text me.”

“Okay. I’m going to take a shower then. Clean that shit,” she pointed at the open laptop. “Out of my brain a little.”

Mary Margaret hummed in understanding. Emma went into her room, put her phone on the charger, and gathered clean clothes for her shower. When the phone had enough of a charge that it wasn’t in imminent danger of dying, she unplugged it and brought it into the bathroom with her. Right after starting the shower, she pulled Regina’s name up and typed her a quick message.

_Call me when you get this. Or text me. Smoke signals. Something. Let me know you’re okay._

She turned the volume up before stepping into the shower so she wouldn’t miss it if it rang. Last night was for thinking. Today, she suspected, would be for waiting.

* * *

For several hours after Emma got out of the shower, Mary Margaret waited with her. David didn’t text and didn’t text, and Emma’s phone stayed silent, and they both just got more and more nervous. Emma didn’t have any idea if Regina would have been allowed to keep her phone with her, if she was being held for observation, but kept sending her messages throughout the day anyway. She wasn’t quite sure what to say, except _I’m worried_ and _Are you okay?_ but she sent variations of those on a regular basis anyway. Also, a small video clip of Mary Margaret jumping up and down and cursing in the most G rated way possible after slamming her two smallest toes against the coffee table. If nothing else, Regina would appreciate that.

Finally, just after one in the afternoon, David sent Mary Margaret a novel length text. They both sagged in relief at finally hearing from him.

“He says they are holding her for a psych evaluation,” Mary Margaret reported. “But Zelena has been making a nuisance of herself at the police station, and apparently Mal and Gold are the same at the hospital. They can hold her for 72 hours but David thinks the rest of the band will be annoying enough that she’ll be let go today or tomorrow morning. Zelena is threatening them with all manner of lawsuits.”

Emma grimaced. “I’m not surprised. She’s pretty much the worst.”

Mary Margaret laughed. “She’s changed a lot since our days as neighbors. She was mostly just very sullen then.”

“Did she have the accent back then, too?” Emma asked, chuckling. “Because I _can’t_ figure that out.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know. I bet Zelena Mills only spoke twenty words to me in the entire time I lived next door to her. I just remember her as this solemn, quiet girl that was always in the background scowling. She was a lot like Mrs. Mills that way. I’m pretty sure I never saw either one of them really smile. Very stern. Crazy eyes, though.”

“Awesome,” Emma muttered. “It’s no wonder Regina has issues.”

“Yes, well, I won’t deny that you have your work cut out for you,” Mary Margaret told her primly, wringing her hands together.

Emma eyed the nervous motion warily and told her bluntly, “Don’t beat around the bush, Mary Margaret. Just tell me what you want.”

Mary Margaret huffed at her. “How could you tell?”

“You’re like a damn bird, always fluttering around when you get nervous. Stop with the hands already, just spit it out.”

“Róisín texted and wants to get lunch, but I don’t want to leave you if you need me.” The look on her roommate’s face was so pathetic that Emma actually laughed a little. She pulled Mary Margaret in for a brief hug.

“You’re fine to go. I’ll be okay. I’m just going to hang out and wait for Regina to call.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course. Just leave me the brownies, okay?”

“It’s a deal!” Mary Margaret leaned in and kissed Emma’s cheek; she made a big show of wiping it off her face in faux disgust. “Let me know how she is, when you do hear from her, won’t you?”

“Sure, whatever.” Emma followed her to the door. As the other woman made her way to the stairs, Emma called after her suddenly, remembering, “Hey, Mary Margaret? Don’t tell Róisín anything David told you, okay? And, maybe don’t tell anyone about the photo album, either?”

Mary Margaret crossed her finger over her heart. “Of course not, Emma. Your secret is safe with me.”

* * *

It was a full day and a half after the night of the show when someone knocked on the door. It started as a very light tapping that Emma actually ignored for some time. Her building wasn’t exactly new, and it was constantly making sounds. When Mary Margaret had been a more permanent fixture in the apartment, she was regularly jumping at something, nervous because she was convinced that something was about to collapse, or armed with a frying pan because she thought someone was about to break in. So Emma had gotten good at making a note of the noises, so that when Mary Margaret inevitably came to find her, she would be able to reassure her that they weren’t about to get murdered, but filing them away automatically as not important. She did this with the tapping, until it became knocking. And almost immediately after it became knocking, it became banging, rapid fire against the door, and Emma knew there were only two people that could possibly be so desperate to see her.

The first, and the most likely, was Ruby. Ruby had called earlier wanting Emma to come get breakfast with her at the diner, and was pissed at her for rejecting her offer of company, pissed that her best friend would rather sit alone in her apartment and brood while she waited than let Ruby take some of the burden from her shoulders. Ruby was annoyed enough with her that it was totally possible that she would come bang Emma’s front door down. And though Emma wanted it to be Regina there to see her, she steeled herself for Ruby’s indignation instead, and went to yank the door open.

First all she saw was white, and then Regina basically fell through the doorway, her arm still poised to bang again. Emma caught her reflexively by the shoulders, and though the woman’s face contorted a little in discomfort, she didn’t say anything about it. Instead, she allowed Emma to pull her in, slipping her arms around Emma’s waist and squeezing briefly. Emma had just enough time to smell Regina’s scent—slightly sterilized now, from her time in the hospital, but also a little sour. Then Regina pulled away. She stepped back and eyed Emma almost nervously.

“ _You’re okay_ ,” was all that Emma could say, blinking back tears so she could take in all of Regina’s appearance. The heaviness in her chest was getting lighter by the second, but something else was building in her heart now, something that twisted when she took in the white bandages that disappeared under the sleeves of Regina’s plain black shirt. She couldn’t help the way her eyes lingered over the gauze, though. It made Regina tug at her sleeves, though she didn’t look away from Emma or try to divert her attention. She just let Emma look until she didn’t need to anymore.

Finally, Emma let out a deep, long sigh. “God, Regina. I was really worried.”

“I know,” Regina said quietly. “I got all your messages.” Unspoken went the question Emma really wanted to ask: why didn’t she answer any of them? But she didn’t ask it. Instead she took Regina by the hand and led her to the couch. “Can we…not talk about it right now?” When Emma couldn’t hide her wince, Regina made a similar expression back. “Just for a little while, please. I’m tired, and I need…”

“What? What do you need?”

“Quiet,” came the hesitant response. Regina’s head dipped forward until it was resting on Emma’s shoulder; Emma brought her arms up and held the woman close to her. Regina burrowed in, her voice now muffled by the fall of Emma’s hair. “I would like to hear my own thoughts for a few minutes.”

Emma could only imagine that Regina hadn’t been left alone much since being taken off stage. She shifted them into a more comfortable position, so Regina was settled comfortably across her chest. It took a few moments to figure out how Regina needed to keep her arms positioned so that they didn’t hurt pressed against Emma’s body, but they figured it out, and it was only then that Regina let out a sigh. She melted into Emma’s embrace.

“It’s strange,” she murmured after a while.

“What is?” Emma kept her eyes closed, and her hands in safe places, resting on Regina’s hip and petting her hair, where neither one would touch the thick white bandages on her arms.

“How comfortable we are together,” was the response, spoken even as Regina nestled further into Emma’s body. “I hardly know you, but you’re the safest place I know.”

That made Emma smile, even if it scared her too. She almost felt like she and Regina were moving at a glacial pace, only because the only other option was to rush headlong into it instead. But the other singer’s words were true. They were comfortable with one another.

“I’m glad,” was all she said. “Do you want to take a nap?”

“That sounds nice.” Regina was already half asleep anyway. “We’ll talk when we wake up.”

“Promise?”

Regina just hummed. Her breathing evened out, and soon she was sound asleep. Emma stayed awake, softly stroking dark hair. She was afraid that if she closed her eyes, Regina would vanish, and her coming here would have just been Emma’s wishful thinking. So she stayed awake, and tried hard not to be troubled.

* * *

Regina did not sleep very long. Barely an hour later, she stirred back into wakefulness. Her eyes opened slowly, and she stretched in Emma’s arms.

“How are you feeling?” It was the middle of the day and there were all the typical noises of a busy day filtering in through Emma’s windows, but that didn’t stop her from whispering the question.

Rather than just answer the question, she watched Regina pause to think about it. After a moment, her eyes lit up in surprise. “Better, actually. I’m sore, but I feel rested.”

“Did they give you anything for the pain?”

A hum and a wince. “Yes. Well, first they sedated me. It was Zelena’s fault. I was yelling at her, so I’m sure they thought I was going to go after her next. The sedation made me feel terrible. I was sick for hours. But they sent me home with pills. Zelena has them, of course.”

“Of course,” Emma murmured back. “We got into a fight.”

“I know. Mal told me all about it. Gold thought it was the funniest thing he’s ever witnessed.”

Emma shifted so she could look down at the woman in her arms. “Um, do you seriously call him Gold?”

“Oh yes,” Regina nodded. “Of course. His first name is simply ridiculous.”

“What is it?” Her curiosity was piqued. But Regina just chuckled at her.

“If you guess it, I’ll tell you.”

“Rumplestiltskin,” Emma said immediately.

Regina rolled her eyes. “Yes. That’s it. You’ve guessed it. Good job, Miss Swan.”

“It’s kind of hot that you call me Miss Swan.” Regina gave her an exasperated look as she sat up. Emma just grinned, unrepentant. She let Regina move off of her, and then headed into the kitchen. “Do you want food? I don’t have a lot, but Mary Margaret made brownies so I have those, and also the rest of the eggs, and I can definitely not fuck up eggs.”

“Eggs sound fine, dear,” Regina’s voice sounded from close behind where she was standing with her head poked into the fridge. A moment later, she felt hands latch onto her hips and lips press into the side of her neck. They lingered until a quick tongue darted out to taste her skin, and then Regina removed herself from Emma’s personal space. She was suddenly very, very glad that her body was angled to the cool air coming from the fridge, because Emma suddenly found herself unbearably warm. Regina chuckled, and Emma heard her scoot a chair away from the table.

“You’re dangerous,” she told the other woman darkly, grabbing the eggs and some butter so she could make Regina something to eat. She grabbed a pan from the cupboards down by the stove, and set to work. As she cracked eggs into a bowl, she asked casually, “So, are we going to talk about it, or what?”

Regina sighed. “I would prefer not to talk about it; I’ve been talking about it since they put me in the ambulance. But, I am aware that I owe you an explanation. As well as an apology. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Yeah, well, you did. That was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I apologize.”

“Was it just a publicity thing?” That was the question she dreaded the most; there was literally no good way to answer it. If it was, then Emma could have no respect for someone that resorted to that to gain attention. She understood that it was a thing that happened in this industry, but she’d never been someone who had appreciated it. Because she’d grown up in the kind of environment where she knew people that used self-injury as an escape, a way to feel, a way to cope with their highly shitty lives. She couldn’t handle it being treated like a jump scare. But if it wasn’t, that came with its own set of problems and worries that Emma was afraid she couldn’t handle, no matter what she’d told Mary Margaret. She wanted to help, but what did she honestly know about that kind of mindset?

Anyway. She was pretty sure she knew what the answer was. But she wanted to hear it from Regina herself.

“No,” Regina admitted finally. “It was not a publicity thing.”

“So you…” Emma trailed off, waiting for Regina to fill in the rest.

“Temporarily lost my sense of reason in a public setting and deliberately caused myself injury.” The answer sounded scripted, but also completely natural coming from Regina’s mouth. Emma couldn’t help it. She barked out a short, startled laugh. Regina looked up at her in shock.

“Sorry, sorry!” Emma clapped a hand to her mouth. “But you just sound so formal. Regina, you lost your shit and cut yourself in front of an audience.”

“I…well, I, yes. I guess that is exactly what it was.” She seemed startled with herself. “That’s odd. Zelena has spent hours trying to get me to admit that, and I would not.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not your crazy ass sister,” Emma retorted, pouring egg into the pan. “And I’m not going to use whatever you say to me as a reason to get you off the stage, or lock you up in a hospital.”

Regina snorted. “Zelena threatened every member of staff in the hospital in order to get me released before the traditional 72 hours were over. She is not going to lock me up.”

“Maybe not, but she was keeping you guys doing Takeovers way longer than you needed to do because she didn’t think you could handle a full length show. Which, by the way, good job proving her right.”

Regina outright laughed at her now. “Oh, I like this. Thank you for not treating me as though you understand what I did.”

“I don’t think even you understand what you did, Regina.” When Regina’s eyes got wide, Emma shrugged. “That day we went to the bookstore. You said you didn’t mean to let it happen, but things get overwhelming sometimes. I think you were overwhelmed, and you handled it very badly.”

“That is an understatement. Accurate, but understated. Emma, I barely even remember doing it.”

Emma dumped the contents of the pan onto two plates, and dropped one of them in front of Regina. “I was going to make toast too but I already forgot I have no other food, except the brownies. So we’ve got scrambled eggs, and brownies. I should probably go to the grocery store at some point.”

Regina smiled a little. “Yes. That might be good.” She took a bite, and chewed slowly, looking thoughtful. When she swallowed, she said, “Thank you, Emma.”

“Meh, they’re not even that good,” Emma waved her hand dismissively. “But you’re welcome.”

“The eggs are not what I was thanking you for.”

“I know.” Emma smiled at her. “You’re still welcome.”

They ate the rest of the eggs in silence. When they were done, Emma pulled out the brownie pan.

* * *

“Have you done it before?”

The question came when they were back in the living room, lying on the couch together watching daytime court TV. This time it was Emma sprawled on Regina, because they’d quickly realized that Regina was much more comfortable this way, where she could simply drape her arms over Emma’s back and not worry about it. She felt Regina shift her arms now, lifting them off her back almost like she wanted to move away. But Emma stayed where she was, her cheek pillowed on Regina’s stomach, and kept her eyes on the TV.

“A little,” she finally admitted, letting her arms come back down to Emma’s back, and squeezing her a little. “When I was younger. And, once- once or twice after Daniel died.”

Emma got the feeling that ‘once or twice’ really translated into something more frequent than that, but didn’t push it. Instead she asked, “Does it help?”

Regina sucked in a breath, shaky, and admitted, “Yes. For a little while. It keeps my head quiet.” She felt fingers playing with the ends of her hair, idly twisting it and twirling it. “You’re being very calm about this.”

“I could probably work up a pretty good panic, if you want me to.” Emma chuckled mirthlessly. “I’m pretty freaked out. But I don’t think that would help anything. Anyway, I already got into a screaming match with your sister. If I need to lose it again, I’ll just go find her and let her have another go at me.”

“She would like that. I suspect, though, that she would not come out as victorious as she believes she would if things got physical.”

Emma laughed. “I don’t know, Regina, your sister is a whole bag full of crazy. I’m not sure I want to take that on.” Regina chuckled too, and after a moment, Emma felt her lightly stroking her back. She sighed at the feeling, and squirmed a little closer into Regina’s body. “Are you going to do it again?”

“Well, I didn’t plan to do it this time…” Regina’s chest rose up and fell down with her deep sigh, and her hands held Emma a little tighter. “I can’t say that I won’t. But…I don’t want to.”

Emma had a feeling that that was as good as she was going to get for now.

* * *

“I don’t know, we haven’t even talked about it for a couple of days.” Emma scraped brownie off the bottom of the pan and held the fork up to Regina’s lips. She watched as they parted and wrapped around the silverware, turning up at the taste. “We still have a few weeks to get a set list drawn up and start practicing. As long as we can keep agreeing on songs, we should be fine.”

“There will be a riot if you don’t play Joan Jett, you know,” Regina pointed out mildly. She took the fork from Emma’s fingers and dug the very last piece from the pan.

“Yeah, I know, plus there’s no way I’m letting the others convince me I’m not singing I Love Rock and Roll. I will do that shit _a cappella_ if I have to.” Regina smirked, and pressed the fork up to Emma’s lips. She accepted the treat happily. After she’d swallowed, Regina leaned forward and stole a kiss. She tasted like chocolate and coffee, and Emma hummed quietly in pleasure. When they separated, she murmured, “You’re pretty awesome at that.” She grinned when Regina blushed, absurdly pleased with herself. “You’ve been here all day, you know. It’s dark out now.”

“Oh.” Regina fidgeted nervously. “Did you want me to go?”

“No, I was just pointing it out. I thought you’d get bored of me faster than this.”

A small shake of Regina’s head hid the wry quirk of her lips. “I don’t think I’ll ever be bored of you, not after today. You don’t know what it means that you’ve been so accepting of me today.”

“Well, yelling at you isn’t going to help any, and I think Zelena has that area covered just in case it does.” Emma reclined against the arm of the couch and encouraged Regina to lay against her, her back to Emma’s front. When she did, Emma crossed her arms over Regina’s stomach, and Regina gently laid her bandaged arms over Emma’s. She’d long ago shed her embarrassment over her appearance, the longer Emma did not treat her like some fragile broken thing. The stark white of the bandage was still jarring to see, and it still scared Emma to see it, but she refused to let that be the reason she made Regina feel unwelcome.

“Can I stay here?” Regina’s voice was unexpectedly timid. “I don’t want to be alone with myself tonight.”

Emma felt her heart break. She’d always thought that was just hyperbole, but there was an actual, physical pain in her chest right now. She nodded against Regina’s hair. “You can stay. For however long you like.”

Regina let out a shaky sigh of relief. And after that, it was like she finally shed the last of her reservations. Very soon, Emma found herself with her arms full of a sobbing, shaking live wire of grief and fear. Emma could only hold her, and tell her she wasn’t alone. She wasn’t sure she could fix all of Regina’s problems, but she was sure that she could support her, for however long Regina wanted her to. And hopefully, that would be enough. She thought, as Regina finally drifted into a fitful sleep in her arms, that it perhaps could be.

She hoped, anyway.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the ladies must return to their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've officially caught up to everything I had pre-written. I'm hopeful I'll still be able to keep a schedule but I'm not gonna lie, I'm biting my nails a little. Apologies in advance if things get wonky again.

She and Regina slept through the night on the couch like that. Emma was normally such a restless sleeper, and usually woke every morning with the blankets twisted around her body and her hair stuck to her temples with sweat. Whenever she fell asleep on the couch, she never lasted long before she woke herself up by basically throwing her body into the coffee table. So when her eyes fluttered open in the morning, she was more than a little surprised to find that she appeared not to have moved at all during the night. She was still on her back nestled into the cushions, with Regina wrapped in her arms against her. The brunette was still sleeping, and it appeared that she was sleeping quite soundly, so Emma wasn’t quite sure what had awoken her. But then it came again, an insistent knocking at the door.

“Hey, Regina?” The brunette didn’t even stir, so Emma spread her hand over her back and gently shook her. This time, she muttered a little and turned her face into Emma’s shoulder. Emma chuckled. “Hey, I need you to open your eyes, please.” Dark eyebrows furrowed, but still the woman wasn’t quite awake. “Come on, someone is at the door.”

“Tell ‘em t’go ‘way,” came the sleepy mutter. Regina twisted her body a little, snuggling down into the back of the couch. “Sleeping.”

God, the woman was just too adorable for words. Emma heartily wished that she could let her go back to sleep, just so she could witness this cuteness again, but the knocking on the door wasn’t going away. Emma jiggled her leg against Regina’s insistently.

“I hate you.” The words were surly but the action that went with it was decidedly not. She rubbed her cheek on the part of Emma it was already resting against, which happened to be Emma’s breast, and she was mildly embarrassed to feel her nipple stiffening under Regina’s cheek.

“Oh my god, Regina, you seriously have to get off of me now.” The brunette laughed at her, and pushed herself into a sitting position. Still, she kept herself between Emma’s legs, so Emma couldn’t get up. Still foggy, Regina muttered, “What’s that sound?”

“Someone won’t stop knocking on my door.” Sure enough, the knocking was continuous now, and Emma was ready to murder whoever was on the other side.

“It’s Mal.”

Emma blinked at Regina’s wooden assertion. “What? How do you know?”

“Because Zelena would be screaming at you. Mal just makes it impossible to ignore her.”

“Each and every one of you are the actual devil,” Emma muttered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Are we answering or are we sneaking down the fire escape?”

“Would you actually do that?” Regina blinked at her over her shoulder.

“Oh, totally. In fact, I do it most of the times Killian and/or Neal show up here toasted.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Hasn’t happened in a while, but there’s a reason my room is the one with the window that opens to the ladder, though.”

Regina sighed. “If Mal is here it is because the others have grown tired of waiting for me to reappear. We should just answer the door. She won’t go away, and she’ll know if you’re lying to her.”

“Great. Get up then, will you? There’s a spare toothbrush under the sink in my bathroom if you want to brush. That’s my door.” She pointed, and gave Regina’s shoulder a little shove.

Regina twisted first and planted her lips firmly against Emma’s. For a moment she resisted, because seriously, her morning breath was pretty bad, but Regina wasn’t interested in taking no for an answer. Finally Emma relented and opened her mouth, and yeah, neither of them tasted sweet, but it still wasn’t a bad way to start the day.

The knocking got louder, and reluctantly Emma pulled away. “Go hide for a little bit. Get yourself together. I’ll answer the door and start the coffee.” Something occurred to her suddenly, and she tilted her head in concern. “I’m not going to get attacked, am I?”

Regina chuckled as she stood. “Probably not. Mal likes you, remember?” She gave her another quick kiss and padded into Emma’s room. Emma took a deep breath to calm the nerves making her stomach flutter, ran her hands through her tangled curls and shook them out a little, and steeled herself to answer the door.

She waited till the knocking seemed to reach an apex, then swung the door open abruptly. Sure enough, the Evil Regals’ drummer was just swinging her fist forward for another round of pounding. The force of her arm made her lean forward when the door disappeared from its original placement, and Emma snickered at the way she widened her eyes.

“You need something, Mal?” She was careful to keep her voice bored.

Mal’s gaze sharpened and narrowed, eyeing Emma suspiciously. But it didn’t take long to smooth out again, into that strange sort of dreamy expression they were all so familiar with from watching her perform.

“Don’t be difficult, darling, I know she is here.”

Emma shivered at the lazy drawl of the taller blonde’s voice. “And how exactly do you know that?”

“Because she’s not with any of us,” was Mal’s casual reply. “Are you going to let me in or not?”

Emma rolled her eyes and stood aside. Mal drifted in, taking in Emma’s loft lazily. She went right to the couch and sank down onto it, stretching her arms out along the back.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Emma grumbled. Deciding to ignore the drummer in her living room, she went to the kitchen to start the coffee. Unsure of how long Mal and Regina would be staying, she filled the pot to the top with water.

“Where are you hiding her, Swan?”

God, she was starting to think that the Regals devoted at least one of their practice sessions a month to perfecting the art of sounding rude and condescending. It was the only possible explanation.

“She’s brushing her teeth, Jesus,” Emma called back, rolling her eyes. “Give her a break, we just woke up.”

“Oh really?” Ugh, now she sounded lascivious, and Emma wasn’t sure if that was an improvement or not.

“Okay, you keep your nose out of my shit, I’m gonna go…be somewhere less awkward.” Mal’s dark chuckle followed her out of the room. She shut her bedroom door tightly behind her, and leaned against it wearily. After another set of deep calming breaths, she went into the bathroom, where she could hear the water running still.

“Your friend is making herself, like, _super_ comfortable in my living room,” she griped. “But she doesn’t seem inclined to violence so that’s something. How much—holy shit!”

She couldn’t help the exclamation from bursting past her lips, and immediately clapped her hand over her mouth to keep anything else from coming out. Regina was standing at the sink, not brushing her teeth, but instead staring at her newly bared arms in the mirror. The bandages that had covered them were lying in big loose wads in the sink, the insides of them stained light pink from where the wounds had oozed. Emma couldn’t tear her eyes away from them. The letters still looked a little wet, like they were still seeping. Toward the crook of her elbow on her left arm, the stem of the R and almost the entire E stood out in stark black against Regina’s flesh, and it took a moment for Emma to realize that it was because those cuts had needed stitches. The ones closer to her wrists were already scabbing over a dark red. Her right arm was in a little better shape, those wounds being uniformly lighter in color. Because Regina was right handed, Emma realized suddenly, her stomach flopping uncomfortably. She hadn’t been able to press as hard with her left hand as she had with her right.

Emma wondered vaguely if she was going to throw up.

When she finally dragged her eyes away from the mess Regina had made of herself, it was only to find that the woman herself was staring at her through the mirror in utter horror, more than a little fear in her wide dark eyes. At first she couldn’t understand why, could barely even register that she’d even met Regina’s gaze. But then it hit her, all at once, how her reaction must look to Regina.

“It’s okay,” she assured immediately, startled to hear how scratchy her voice was. She cleared her throat, and tried again, “I was just surprised. That looks—”

“You’re crying,” Regina interrupted softly.

“I am?” Emma felt her face, and sure enough, there were tears on her cheeks. Regina turned away from the mirror and approached her slowly, as if she were afraid Emma might spook from her. Moving carefully, she brought her hands up to cup Emma’s cheeks. That let her stare into Regina’s eyes instead of at her arms, and the compassion she saw there blew her away. Regina’s thumbs slowly began wiping the tears away from her face, and that just made them fall faster.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut to try to stop the crying. “I’m sorry. I’ll be okay in a second. I’ll—”

“Emma…”

“No, it’s fine, I’m fine, I’ll stop in a second, I just—”

“ _Emma_.” Regina moved one hand to cover her mouth. Emma shut up, looking at the other singer helplessly. Her tears were coming so quickly now that she had to blink constantly just to keep Regina in focus.

“This is okay,” Regina assured her softly. “You’re allowed to react too. Do you understand?”

Hesitantly, Emma nodded. Regina smiled then, just a little thing that flickered across her lips almost as though it were afraid to stay, and then she was closing the distance between them so she could gently kiss the salt from her face. Emma gasped once, twice, and then her tenuous control snapped and she pulled Regina in close and sobbed into her hair. Regina stroked her hair and her back and held her tightly, making soothing noises into her ear, until finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only moments, Emma’s tears slowed, and then finally stopped.

“I’m sorry,” she hiccuped when she was done. “I don’t know why that happened.”

“Because I scared you and then didn’t talk to you for almost two days,” Regina told her ruefully. “I’m sorry, Emma. I really am. Honestly, I’m a mess, what are you even doing with me? I’d understand if you wanted to stop seeing me. You haven’t known me nearly long enough to be saddled with this.”

“Hey, no, you shut the hell up!” Emma curled her fingers against Regina’s waist. “Weren’t you just telling me yesterday that I felt safe to you? You think that’s somehow one sided? I don’t just kind of like you, and this isn’t just some physical thing. I feel so comfortable with you. So much more comfortable than with anyone else I’ve ever known. Maybe this is a little intense for how long we’ve known each other, but I’m not going anywhere. Do you understand?”

Regina wasn’t crying but her eyes were suspiciously bright when she nodded. Emma didn’t give her a chance to let her tears fall, either, because she pushed her roughly against the counter and kissed her. Her hands found new purchase on Regina’s hips, and she boosted her up onto the counter top next to the sink. She swallowed Regina’s gasp and pushed her way between Regina’s knees, encouraging the woman to wrap her legs around her hips. Regina’s hands, still on her face, slid into her hair and tightened almost painfully. Emma kept pushing, leaning Regina back until the mirror blocked her from going any further. She felt Regina’s legs tighten around her, felt the moan that rumbled out of Regina’s chest reverberate into her own throat.

Just as she was gripping a firm thigh in her hand, Regina hissed in pain and tore herself away from Emma’s mouth.

“Are you okay?” Emma instantly shifted gears, going from almost possessed passion to fearful concern so quickly she almost got whiplash.

“I’m fine,” Regina assured, her voice tense. “I just…pulled some of the stitches. It’s fine.” Emma pressed her forehead against Regina’s in relief. The brunette pecked her lips once, twice, three times more, before pushing her way. “It’s probably for the best. Mal won’t wait forever.”

“Ugh. Right. Also, there’s coffee now.” The smell was starting to filter through the door now. “You go keep your weird friend occupied. I still need to brush my teeth.”

Regina smirked. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything…”

Emma smacked her on the ass on her way out.

* * *

When she came back into the kitchen, Regina was sitting with Mal at the kitchen table, each of them with cups Regina must have washed from the sink. They were talking in hushed tones, but both of them fell silent when Emma walked back in.

“Okaaay,” she drawled. “This is awkward…”

“Are you sure she’s a Swan, and not a duckling?” Mal’s voice was low and amused.

“Be nice, Mallory,” Regina chided. Emma winced at her tone of voice, condescendingly fond.

Mal’s upper lip twitched. “ _Don’t_ call me that.”

“Don’t be a bitch,” Regina countered.

“Yeah, what she said.” Emma pointed at Regina as she sat down with her own cup of coffee. “So, when are you going to be not in my apartment anymore?”

The drummer’s laugh was loud in the otherwise quiet apartment. “She’s _funny!_ I like that!”

“Is she always like this?” Emma wasn’t sure if this was a practical joke or not but she was pretty sure no one acted like this for real.

“Like a rude toddler, you mean?” Regina clarified. “Only half of the time.”

“What’s she like the other half of the time?”

“A rude adult,” was Regina’s prompt response.

“Okay, well, here are the rules,” Emma slapped a palm down on the table, ensuring Mal’s wandering attention was on her. “Zelena is never allowed to come here. I’m on the fence about the creepy guy, too. Which makes you the designated Regina finder. That being said, don’t come here. I will sic my roommate on you and you do not want that.”

Mal laughed, amused. “Oh, really? Please, enlighten me. Tell me all about this vicious roommate.”

“It’s Mary Margaret Blanchard,” Regina supplied dryly.

Mal sat up, suddenly sharp and focused. “Point taken, dear. You fight dirty. I like that in Regina’s girlfriends.”

“You make it sound like there’s been a harem.”

“One, one hundred, it makes no difference to me.” Mal waved a hand dismissively. Regina swatted at her, and Emma watched Mal’s fingers close over Regina’s hand. She pulled the arm taut, till Regina winced and Emma sat up a little straighter, and tsked her lips. “Look at what you’ve done to yourself, you little idiot.”

“Hey!”

Regina sent Emma a quelling look. “It’s quite alright, Emma. She’s not wrong.”

“Uh, _yeah_ , she _is_. Look, can you maybe just not call her names?”

To her surprise, Mal’s response wasn’t dismissive or rude or flippant. A slow smile spread on her lips, and she nodded. “Yes, alright, Regina, I could perhaps understand what you see in this one. You may keep her.”

“Oh, wonderful, I’m so very glad that I have your permission.” But Emma could see the pleased glint in Regina’s eye. She herself was equal parts pleased an annoyed. Annoyed that Mal thought she could pass judgment at all, but pleased that at least one member of Regina’s band didn’t hate her. Allies were always nice, especially when she was so unsure about telling her own friends, since Ruby hadn’t really been thrilled about the idea of her being just friends with Regina.

“Alright, all this proper English and sarcasm is starting to make my eyes roll and I’m pretty sure they’re going to get stuck in the back of my head. So you two…do whatever it is that you do, and I’m going to change my clothes.”

“Actually, I did come for a reason, other than to spare you the wrath of Zelena.” The blonde turned heavy lidded eyes to Regina and said, almost apologetically, “We do need to meet with the others. There is much we need to discuss about how to handle what happened.”

Regina sighed, and nodded. “She’s right. I need to go.”

“Hang on a second.” Emma ran into her room and rummaged around in her closet for a moment. She came out with a faded old Pantera shirt with long sleeves and tossed it at Regina. “I’ll wash the one you were wearing last night.” The one she’d taken off because, as she said, it still smelled like hospital.

Mal’s face wrinkled in distaste when she saw the band logo on the front, but Regina didn’t even hesitate to slip it over her head. The sleeves were long enough that she could pull them down over the backs of her hands, and even though she winced a little as the material rubbed against her arms, she curled her fingers around the sleeves so every part of her arms were completely covered.

“Well, now I don’t want to be seen with you.” Mal stood and swept over to the door. “You can follow several paces behind if you’re going to wear that.”

Regina stood and kissed Emma’s cheek. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Any time. When do I get to see you again?”

“I’ll call you tonight. I’m sure by the time this band meeting is over, I will be foaming at the mouth to get away.”

Emma laughed lightly. “Yeah, I think I’ll probably have a day like that too. I’m going to call Ruby. We need to get going on this women of rock thing.”

Regina kissed her again, lightly on the lips this time. “Goodbye, dear.”

A loud, impatient huff came from the hallway, where Mal was waiting. Emma grinned. “You better go hold her hand so everyone knows she’s with the weirdo in the Pantera shirt.”

Regina’s smirk was wicked as she hurried to catch up to her friend. Through the closed door, as the two descended the stairs, Emma heard Mal’s indignant protest of, “No, absolutely _not_ , Regina! Let go of me!”

She snickered, and stretched her back. Picking up her phone, she thumbed a text to Ruby. Now that she knew that Regina was okay, some one on one time with her best friend was exactly what she needed.


End file.
